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SERMONS, 


BY    THE    LATE 


Reverbnd  JOHN   CLARKE,  D.D. 

MINISTBR    OF    THE    FIRST    CHURCH    IK*SOSTONy 
MASSACHWSETTSn 


t0M€«Q^^-^^>^^®®®6O*««c 


Copg  Sigfjt  fenireu,  accorUmg  to  Stt  of  Congrefe 


BOSTON: 
Printed  by  Samuel  Hall,  and  fold  at  his  Eook-flore  in  CornMl 


July,   1799, 


j( 


i^ 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

A  HE  following  pofthumous  Sermons  are  fe- 
ledled  from  the  numerous  weekly  productions  of  the 
author,  written  for  the  inftrudion  of  his  people,  and 
not  with  any  view  to  publication.  They  are  print- 
ed at  the  earneft  defire  of  thofe,  who  were  imprefled 
with  the  excellency  of  his  preaching  ;  and  who  con- 
ceived that  a  compliance  with  this  defire  would  not 
merely  gratify  the  partiality  of  friendfhip  ;  but  fervc 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  eminent  worth,  pro- 
mote the  general  edification,  and  confer  honour 
upon  the  American  pulpit.  The  feledion  has  been 
made  with  a  joint  regard  to  merit  in  compofition, 
and  importance  in  matter,  Whilft  it  was  judged 
that  fidelity  to  the  original  forbade  any  alterations, 
concern  for  the  literary  reputation  of  the  author  was 
relieved  by  the  knowledge  of  his  remarkable  corred- 
nefs  in  whatever  he  wrote,  and  a  confequent  belief 
that  a  volume  of  his  difcourfes  would  appear  with 
greater  advantage  than  mofl:  pofl;humous  productions. 
Should  this  work  meet  the  favourable  reception  ex- 
pefted,  it  is  contemplated  to  publilh  another  fmall 
volume  of  Sermons,  addrefled  to  the  young,  and 
which  the  public  would  probably  have  received  from 
the  author's  own  hand,  had  he  lived  to  execute  his 
intention. 


SHORT     ACCOUNT 


OF 


Doaor   CLARKE, 

By  a  late  eminent  P  i  v  i  n  e    and  Author. 

JOHN  CLARKE,  D.D.  A.A.S.  Paftor  of 
the  Firft  Church  in  Bofton,  was  born  at  Portfmouth, 
ifi  New-Hamplhire,  April  13,  1755  ;  graduated  at 
Harvard  College  in  1774;  and  ordained  July  8, 
1778,  as  colleague  with  the  late  Dr.  Chauncy,  with 
whom  he  lived  in  the  moft  intimate  and  refpe(5lful 
friendfhip  about  nine  years  ;  and  afterwards  contin- 
ued, affiduoufly  and  faithfully  labouring  in  the  fer- 
vice  of  the  Church,  until  the  Lord's-day,  April  i, 
1798  ;  when,  in  the  midft  of  his  afternoon  fermon, 
he  was  fuddenly  feized  with  an  apoplexy,  fell  down 
in  the  pulpit,  and  expired  in  lefs  than  twelve  hours ; 
having  almoft  completed  the  43d  year  of  his  age, 
and  the  20th  year  of  his  miniftry. 

Descended  from  refpedlabie  parents,  who  live  to 
lament  an  only  fon,  he  difcovered  in  early  life  the 
ligns  of  genius  and  induftry.  At  the  Univerfity  he 
was  diftinguifhed  by  a  clofe  attention  to  claffic  and 
philofophic  ftudies,  by  a  ftrid  obedience  to  the  laws, 
and  by  irreproachable  morals.  In  the  oiEce  of  pre- 
ceptor, he  was  gentle  and  perfuafive,  beloved  by  his 
pupils,  and  efleemed  by  their  friends.  As  a  public 
preacher,  his  compofitions  bore  the  marks  of  pene- 
tration, judgment,  perfpicuity,  and  elegance.  Faith- 
ful to  the  intereft  of  religion,  he  deeply  examined  its 
foundation  and  evidence  ;  and  perfuaded  of  the 
truth  and  importance  of  the  Chriftian  fyftem,  he 

recommended^ 


Account  of  the  Author.  v 

rceommended,  by  his  public  difcourfes  and  private 
converfation,  its  fublime  doclrines,  its  wife  inftitu- 
tions,  and  its  falutary  precepts. 

Though  fond  of  polite  literature  and  philofophic 
refearches,  yet  he  confidered  theology  as  the  proper 
fcience  of  a  Gofpel  Minifter.  To  this  object  he  prin- 
cipally devoted  his  time  and  fludies,  and  was  earneft- 
ly  delirous  of  inveftigating  every  branch  of  it,  not 
merely  to  gratify  his  own  facred  curioiity,  but  that 
he  might  impart  to  his  hearers  the  whole  counfel  of 
God.  He  was  habitually  a  clofe  fludent  ;  and  it  is 
not  improbable,  that  the  intenfenefs  of  his  mental  ap- 
plication proved  too  fevere  for  the  delicate  fabric  of 
his  nerves. 

His  devotional  addreffes  were  copious  and  fervent  j 
and  his  interceffions  ftrong  and  afFeclionate,  difcover- 
ing  at  once  the  ardour  of  his  piety,  and  the  warmth 
of  his  benevolence.  In  the  private  offices  of  paftoral 
friendlhip,  he  was  truly  exemplary  and  engaging. — 
His  temper  was  mild  and  cheerful ;  his  manners  eafy 
and  polite  ;  and  the  focial  virtues  of  an  honell  heart 
gave  a  glow  to  his  language,  and  enlivened  every 
circle  in  which  he  was  converfant. 

In  the  relations  of  a  fon,  a  brother,  a  hufband,  a 
father,  a  guardian,  a  correfpondent,  a  matter,  a 
friend,  and  a  member  of  feveral  literary  and  charita- 
ble focieties,  his  deportment  was  marked  with  affec- 
tion, fidelity  and  carefulnefs.  He  was  concerned  for 
the  intereft,  reputation  and  happinefs  of  all  his  con- 
nexions ;  and  zealoully  devoted  to  the  caufe  of  fci- 
ence and  humanity. 

Being  fucceffor  to  ten  eminent  luminaries  of  the 
church  of  God,  he  was  fludious  to  emulate  them  in 
piety,  learning,  and  ufefulnefs.  Like  three  of  them, 
Jie  was  fuddenly  calle4  pff  from  his  minifttrial  la- 
bours J 


id  Account  of  the  Author. 

bours  ;  and  having  happily  efcaped  the  painful  ago- 
jiies  of  a  lingering  death,  is  gone  to  receive  the  re- 
ward of  a  faithful  fervant,  and  enter  into  the  joy  of 
his  Lord. 

The  names  of  his  predeceffors,  the  order  of  their 
fucceffion,  and  their  ages  (as  far  as  they  are  known) 
are  as  follow : 

A»D.  1632     John  Wilson,  i66y,JEt.yg, 
1633     John  Cotton,  i6$6,  JEt.  6S, 
1656     John  Norton,  1663,  JEt.  ^y, 
6^S  C  John  Davenport,  1670,  JSt.  72. 

^  James  Allen,   1710,  ^t.  78. 
1670     John  Oxenbridge,  1674,  ^Et.  66, 
i6g6     Benjamin  Wadsworth,  removed  to 
the  Prefidency  of  Harvard  College,  I725» 
and  died  1737,  Mt.  68. 

1705     Thomas  Bridge,  1715,  ^t.  58. 
1717     Thomas  Foxcroft,  1769,  ^t.  73. 
1727     Charles  Chauncy,D.D.  i787,-^t.83» 

Belides  two  affiftant  minifters,  viz. 
1684    Joshua  Moody,    returned    to  Portf- 

mouth,  1692. 
1693     John  Bailey,  1697,  JEt.  54. 

Mr.  Norton  died  very  fuddenly  on  the  Lord's- 
day,  as  he  was  preparing  for  the  afternoon  exercife. 
Mr.  Oxenbridge  fell  down  in  the  pulpit,  with  an 
apoplexy,  and  died  in  four  days.  Mr.  Foxcroft 
was  feized  with  the  fame  diforder  on  a  Saturday, 
and  died  the  next  day. 

Dr.  Clarke's  printed  works  are,  four  Sermons  ; 
one  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Cooper,  one  on  the  death  of 
Dr.  Chauncy,  one  on  the  death  of  Dr.  N.  W.  Ap- 
j>leton,  and  one  before  the  Humane  Society  :  An 
anfwer  to  the  queftion.  Why  are  you  a  Chriftian  ? 
(which  has  had  three  editions  in  Bofton,  and  four 
in  England)  j  and  Letters  to  a  Student  at  the  Uni« 
verfxty  of  Cambridge. 


(    vU    ) 

CONTENTS. 


Sermon  I.   The  fecurity  of  a  virtuous  courfe,  9 

Proverbs  x.  9. 
"  He  that  tvalketh  uprightly,  walketh  furely. 

SERMON  II.    Excufes  of  the  irreligious,  20 

Luke  xiv.  i8. 

"  And  they  all,  with  one  confent,  began  to  make  excufe." 

SERMON  III.     Habitual  devotion,  33 

Psalm  x.  4. 
"  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts." 

SERMON  IV.    The  clearnefs  of  revelation,      44 

Deuteronomy  xxx.  ii — 14- 
"  For  this  commandment,  which  I  command  thee  this  day,  is 
not  hidden  from  thee,  neither  is  it  far  off :  it  is  not  in  hea- 
ven, that  thou  fhouldeft  fay,  who  fliall  go  up  for  us  to  heaven, 
and  bring  it  unto  us,  that  we  may  hear  it,  and  do  it  ?  neither 
is  it  beyond  the  fea,  that  thou  fhouldeft  fay,  who  fhall  go  over 
the  fea  for  us,  and  bring  it  unto  us,  that  we  may  hear  it,  and 
do  it  ?  but  the  word  is  very  nigh  unto  thee,  in  thy  mouth, 
and  in  thy  heart,  that  thou  mayeft  do  it." 

SERMON  V.    Chrift, the  light  of  the  world,   SS 

John  viii.  la. 
"  Then  fpake  JeAis  again  unto  them,  faying,  I  am  the  light  of 
the  world  :   he  that  followeth  me,  fiiall  not  walk  in  darknefs, 
but  ftiall  have  the  light  of  life." 

SERMON  VI.    Bleffednefsofthofe,  who  have 

not  feen,  and  yet  have  believed,     67 

John  xx.  29. 
*«  Blefled  are  t"hey  that  have  not  feen,  and  yet  have  believed.** 

SERMON   VII.     On  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,  82 

Hebrews  in.  la. 

**  Take  heed,  brethren,  left  there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil  heart 

of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God." 

SERMON  VIII.     Office  of  reafon  in  religion,     93 

I  Corinthians,  x.  15. 
«  I  fpeak  as  to  wife  men  :   judge  ye  what  I  fay." 

SERMON 


viii  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  IX.  Beneficial efFeds of chriftianity^  104 

Psalm  lxxii.  7. 

•*  In  his  days  fhall  the  righteous  flourifii  ;  and  abundance  of 

peace,  fo  long  as  the  moon  endureth.'* 

S  E  R  M  O  N  X.     On  the  knowledge  of  God,      1 15 

Romans  i.  a8,  39. 
*«  And  even  as  they  did  not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  know- 
ledge, God  gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  to  do  thofe 
things  which  are  not  convenient  j   being  filled  with  all  ua- 
righteoufnefs." 

SERMON  XL    On  fearching  the  fcrlptures,     126 

John  v.  39. 
"  Search  the  fcriptures." 

SERMON   XII.    On  the  impartiality  of  God,  138 

I  Peter,  i.  17. 
•*  And  if  ye  call  on  the  father,  who,  without  re{pe£l  of  perfons, 
judgeth  according  to  every  man's  work,  pafs  the  time  of  you? 
fojouniing  here  in  fear." 

SERMON  XIII.    Chrlftians  not  of  the  world,  149 

John  xvii.  16. 
*<  They  are  not  of  the  world,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world." 

SERMON   XIV,    On  improving  religious  ad- 
vantages, 161 
Matthew  xin.  12. 
«  For  whofoever  hath,  to  him  Ihall  be  given,  and  he  fiiall  have 
more  abundance  :    but  whofoever  hath  not,  from  him  fhall  ht 
taken  away,  even  that  he  hath." 

S  E  R  M  O  N  X V.     On  the  neceffity  of  perfonal 

holinefs,  172 

Hebrews  xii.  14. 
"  Holinefs,  without  which  no  man  can  fee  the  Lord."     ^ 

SERMON  XVI.     On  public  worfliip,  1 83 

Psalm  lxxxiv.  part  of  4  and  10  vs. 

«•  Bleffed  are  they  that  dwell  in  thy  houfe. A  day  in  thy 

courts  is  better  than  a  thoufjmd." 

SERMON  XVII.     On  an  open  profeflion  of 

chriflianity,  194 

John  xir.  42. 
«  Neverthelefs,  among  the  chief  rulers,  alfo,  many  believed  on 
.   him  ;   but  becaufe  of  the  pharifees,  they  did  not  confefs  him, 
left  they  fhould  be  put  out  of  the  fynagogue." 

(The  remaining  Contents  are  at  the  end  of  the  volume.) 


^eimon  i. 


The  Security  of  a  virtuous  Courfe* 
Proverbs  x.  9. 

"  HE  THAT  WALKETH  UPRIGHTLY,  WALKETH 
SURELY." 

,MONG  all  the  moral  obfervations, 
afcribed  to  the  wife  man,  there  is 
not  o?ie  more  deierving  of  our  feri- 
ous  and  habitual  attention,  than  that 
which  I  have  feleded  as  the  fubjed 
of  this  difcourfe.  To  fome  indeed, 
it  may  appear,  that  the  mere  fqfeiy  of  a  virtuous 
courfe  is  not  its  higheft  recommendation.  If  it  be 
connected  with  peace  of  mind,  with  true  honour, 
with  real  dignity,  with  the  favour  of  God  in  this 
world,  and  with  eternal  happinefs  in  that  v/hich  is  to 
come,  they  will  alk,  why  is  it  not  enforced  by  thefe 
more  powerful  confiderations  ?  Why  are  we  told, 
that  he  who  ivalketh  uprightly,  walketh  furely,  when 
we  might  be  told,  that  the  path  of  virtue  is  the  di- 
red  way  to  heaven. 

To  this  I  anfwer.  Of  fuch  infinite  importance  is  a 

courfe  of  obedience,  that  every  poffible  argument 

ought  to  be  produced  in  its  favour.     Difcourfmg  to 

g  Chriilians, 


lO  THE     SECURITY    OF  [SeRM.  I. 

Chrlftlans,  it  is  highly  proper  to  inform  them,  that, 
by  walking  uprightly,  they  will  lay  up  in  ftore  a  good 
foundation  againft  the  time  to  come.  Obedience  will 
certainly  meet  with  a  heavenly  rewards  Such  is  the 
munificence  of  God,  that  a  patient  cotitinuance  in 
well-doing,  though  it  will  iiot  give  a  legal  claim  to 
immortal  felicity,  will  neverthelefs  qualify  us  for  this 
unfpeakable  blefling.  The  Saviour  of  men  has  pre- 
pared the  way  for  the  moft  extenfive  exercife  of  be- 
nevolence. And  of  the  fruits  of  this  benevolence, 
they  will  hereafter  partake,  who  walk,  not  according 
to  the  courfe  of  this  world,  but  the  dictates  of  an 
honeft  and  virtuous  mind.  The  gofpel  teaches  us  to 
entertain  thefe  expe(5lations ;  and,  by  the  refurreclion 
of  its  author,  we  are  confirmed  in  the  hope  fet  be^ 
fore  us. 

But,  admitting  the  truth  of  this  reprefentation, 
flill,  I  would  alk,  why  may  not  the  fafety  attending 
it,  be  brought  as  one  argument  in  favour  of  a  good 
life  ?  Why  may  not  the  upright  be  informed  that 
they  tread  on  fure  ground  ?  Why  may  they  not  be 
told,  that  let  religion  be  true  or  falfe,  they  can  be  no 
lofers  by  their  virtue  ?  Certainly,  this  is  a  very  im- 
portant idea  ;  and  it  ought  to  be  urged  with  all 
earnellnefs  upon  every  Chrifiiian.  For  no  man  knows 
what  doubts  or  difficulties  may  rife  up  in  his  mind, 
or  how  he  may  be  perplexed  by  the  different  fyfi;ems 
of  religion  which  prevail  in  the  world.  But  fi:ill,  he 
will  be  in  no  real  danger  if  imprefled  with  the  fafety 
of  a  virtuous  life.  So  long  as  he  governs  himfelf  by 
this  maxim,  that  he  who  walketh  uprightly^  walketh 
furcly,  the  great  ends  of  religion  will  be  anfwered, 
and  his  befi:  intereft  finally  fecured. 

Under  the  fulleft  conviction  of  this  truth,  I  would 
afli  your  particular  attention  to  the  words  of  the 

text. 


SeRM.  Ij  -A.    VIRTUOUS    COURSE.  1 1 

text.  The  terms  ufed  by  the  wife  man,  I  fliall  firfl 
explain ;  and  then  enlarge  on  the  fentiment  incuL 
cated.  To  walk^  in  the  fcripture  ftyle,  is  to  lead  a 
particular  courfe  of  life.  Thus  to  walk  honeftly  or 
deceitfully,  to  walk  in  light  or  darknefs,  is  to  live 
righteoufly  or  wickedly  in  the  world.  Accordingly, 
we  read  that  "  Enoch  walked  with  God  :"  the  mean- 
ing is,  that  he  lived  pioully  ;  that  he  did  not  fall  into 
the  prevailing  fins  of  his  generation,  but  fet  an  ex- 
ample of  godlinefs  and  virtue.  On  the  other  hand, 
St.  John  fays,  "  He  that  hateth  his  brother,  walketh 
in  darknefs  ;"  in  other  words,  is  no  good  Chriftian, 
but  goes  on  in  a  courfe  of  life  directly  contrary  to 
the  gofpel.  In  like  manner  the  word  is  ufed  in  the 
text.  To  walk  uprightly  is  to  have  a  conftant  regard 
to  God,  and  his  commandments,  in  the  general  courfe 
of  life.  It  is  to  perfevere  in  the  fteady  practice  of  all 
religious  duty.  It  is,  in  Ihort,  to  be  an  habitually 
good  man.  Such  an  one  walketh  furely^  that  is,  ads  a 
fafe  part,  is  not  in  danger  of  lofing  his  beft  intereft, 
or  bringing  upon  him  any  difgrace  or  mifery  beyond 
the  grave  The  fum  then,  of  the  wife  man's  obferva- 
tion  is  this,  that  he,  who,  in  the  whole  courfe  of  his 
life,  acls  fincerely  and  juftly,  foberly  and  devoutly  ; 
who  is,  not  in  appearance  only,  but  in  reality,  a  good 
man  ;  that  fuch  a  perfon  will  be  finally  fecure,  what- 
ever may  be  the  courfe  of  human  events.  In  this 
ftate  of  darknefs  and  uncertainty  he  hazards  nothing. 
And  he  can  lofe  nothing,  let  the  final  iflue  of  things 
be  what  it  may. 

I  SHALL  now  endeavour  to  illufi;rate  and  confirm 
this  point ;  and  then  recommend  an  upright  or  re- 
ligious life  by  the  perfed:  fecurity  which  attends  it. 

And,  in  order  to  enter  into  the  full  fpirit  of  the 
text,  let  us  fuppofe,  that  fome  truths,  admitted  by 

Chriftians, 


12  THE     SECURITY    OF  [SeRM.  I, 

Chriftlans,  are  involved  in  a  degree  of  uncertainty. 
Let  us,  for  inftance,  take  it  for  granted,  that  even 
Chriftianity  itfelf  could  not  be  fo  defended  as  to  re- 
move all  doubt,  and  produce  a  perfect  acquiefcence 
in  its  facred  original  ;  yet,  even  on  this  fuppofition, 
it  would  be  the  fafeft  part  to  regard  it  as  a  divine 
revelation,  and  to  walk  uprightly  according  to  its  laws. 
For  what  can  a  man  lofe  by  being  a  Chriftian  ?  By 
obferving  the  precepts,  and  following  the  virtuous 
example  of  Jefus  Chrift,  what  injury  can  he  bring  on 
himfelf  ?  "Will  it  render  him  lefs  refpedable  ?  No. 
Will  it  hurt  his  worldly  bufmefs  ?  No.  Will  it  un- 
fit him  for  a  place  of  honour,  or  for  a  public  em- 
ployment ?  No.  Will  he  be  lefs  happy  with  his 
neighbours  ?  No.  Lefs  happy  within  his  own  do- 
mellic  circle  ?  By  no  means.  Can  any  conceivable 
difadvantage  arife  from  a  courfe  of  living  ftrictly  con- 
formable to  the  laws  of  the  gofpel  ?  It  is  prefumed, 
not  any.  So  far  from  it,  our  honour,  our  peace,  our 
happinefs  muft  be  effentially  promoted  by  an  obferv- 
ance  of  thofe  laws. 

This  being  the  cafe,  to  walk  like  a  Chriftian  is  to 
walk  furely  :  whilft,  on  the  other  hand,  to  walk, 
differently,  is  to  enter  on  a  path  befet  with  dangers, 
and  which  may,  to  fay  the  leaft,  conduct  to  perdition. 
The  religion  of  Jefus  is  from  heaven,  or  it  is  of  men. 
If  from  heaven,  then,  by  fubmitting  to  its  laws,  we 
difcharge  an  indifpenfable  duty.  We  obey  God,  and 
do  that  which  is  right  in  itfelf,  and  right  in  his  eyes. 
But  we  incur  no  guilt,  if  our  religion  be  of  men  ; 
our  obedience,  in  this  cafe,  will  not  be  imputed  to  us 
a  crime.  Our  moral  governor  will  never  reproach 
us,  becaufe  we  direfted  our  lives  by  a  rule,  which  we 
imagined  he  had  prefcribed. 

In  this  view  then,  the  upright  man  has  every  ad- 
vantage, 


SeRM.  I.]  A   VIRTUOUS    COURSE.  13 

vantage.  He  may  be  a  great  gainer,  but  he  cannot 
lofe.  On  the  other  hand,  he,  who  does  not  walk  up- 
rio-htly,  may  be  a  great  lofer,  but  he  cannot  gain.  As 
God  will  not  condemn  the  former  for  obeying,  nei- 
ther will  he  applaud  the  latter  for  rejeding  Chriftian- 
ity,  even  fhould  it  be  falfe.  But  ihould  it  be  true, 
the  Chriftian  has  every  thing  to  hope,  the  infidel 
every  thing  to  fear.  The  account  then,  ftands  thus 
on  the  fide  of  the  upright  man  ;  no  lofs,  but  probable 
gain  ;  on  the  other  fide,  no  conceivable  gain,  but  pro- 
bable lofs.  From  this  comparifon,  is  it  not  manifeft 
then,  that  he  who  ivalketh  uprightly,  walketh  furely  ? 

Again — To  give  the  argument  ftill  greater  force, 
let  us  fuppofe  that  with  Chriftianity  in  general,  we 
give  up  the  certainty  of  a  future  ftate.  Let  us  im- 
ag-ine  that  the  arp-uments  in  favour  of  it   rife  no 

o    ,  o 

higher  than  to  probable  evidence  ;  ftill,  in  this  view 
of  the  fubjed,  it  would  be  the  part  of  wifdom  to  walk 
uprightly.  I  will  go  farther  :  If  it  be  only  pojjibk 
that  we  may  exift  hereafter,  prudence  would  dictate 
a  virtuous  life  \  for,  if  death  fhould  be  our  utter 
deftrudion,  we  fhall  not  be  in  a  worfe  condition  than 
the  reft  of  our  fpecies  ;  but  fliould  it  prove  a  mere 
tranfition  to  another  mode  of  being,  vv-e  may  be  af- 
fured  that  our  condition  will  be  far  better.  It  is  not 
poffible  to  doubt,  but  that  the  practice  of  religion  is 
the  means  proper  to  be  ufed,  in  order  to  be  happy. 

Beyond  death  we  fhall  then,  exiit,  or  we  fliall  net. 
If  annihilation  is  to  be  our  fate,  we  have  loft  nothing 
by  leading  fober  and  exemplary  lives.  In  this  world 
we  have  as  largely  partaken  of  true  enjoyment  as 
other  men  ;  and  like  them  we  fhall  lie  down,  and 
awake  no  more.  The  worft  then  that  can  happen  to 
thof€  who  walk  uprightly,  is  to  fare  as  well  as  the 
wicked.  But  fhould  there  be  a  future  ftate  of  retri- 
bution. 


14  THE     SECURITY    OF  [SeRM.  I, 

bution,  what  a  triumph  will  they  then  gain  ?  Hav- 
ing aded  the  part  of  Chriftians,  they  will  have  their 
reward  ;  God  will  make  a  vifible  diftind;ion  between 
them  and  others  ;  and  the  virtuous  habits  here 
formed  will  qualify  them  for  eternal  blelTednefs. 

Observe  then,  the  true  Hate  of  the  cafe.  We  are 
all  called  to  walk  uprightly.  But  fome  will  fay,  are 
we  fure  of  a  future  reward  ?  The  Chriftian  will  an- 
fwer  in  the  affirmative  :  but  could  we  doubt  it,  this 
would  not  fet  alide  the  obligation.  We  are  certainly 
bound  in  duty  to  expofe  ourfelves  to  as  few  dangers  as 
poffible  ;  and  it  is  manifeft  that  we  acl  cautioufly  when 
we  acl  virtuoully.  Should  a  perfon  in  trade  engage 
in  a  branch  of  bufinefs,  in  which  the  worft  that  could 
happen  to  him  would  be  to  keep  his  flock  whole,  we 
Ihould  certainly  think  that  his  interefl  was  fecure. 
On  the  other  hand,  fhould  he  purfue  a  branch  in 
which  this  would  be  his  bell  profpecl,  we  fhould  ef-. 
teem  him  in  a  very  infecure  fituation.  This  is  pre- 
cifcly  the  cafe  with  a  good  and  bad  man,  on  fuppoli- 
tion  that  we  may,  or  may  not,  exifl  hereafter.  The 
former  may  be  highly  benefited,  but  cannot  poffibly 
be  injured  by  his  virtue  :  the  latter  may  be  ruined 
by  his  vices,  but  cannot  turn  them  to  any  poffible 
future  advantage.  The  worll  evil  that  can  happen 
to  a  sfood  man  is  to  be  annihilated  ;  and  this  is  the 
highefl  bleffing  that  a  bad  man  can  expecl  or  wifh 
for.  To  walk  uprightly  is  unqueftionably  then  to 
walk  fureiy ;  and  he  who  conducts  after  this  manner 
is  perfedly  fafe,  even  though  a  future  flate  of  being 
could  not  be  demonllrated. 

The  words  of  an  eminent  Chriflian  philofopher, 
in  regard  to  this  fubjed,  are  fo  pertinent  and  fo  flrik- 
ang,  that  you  will  permit  me  to  quote  them.  "  There 
J'  are  (fays  he)  few  fpeculative  and  inquiring  men, 

"  who 


SeRM.  I.]  ^   VIRTUOUS    COURSE.  1 5 

*«  who  do  not  fometimes  find  themfelves  in  a  flate  of 
«  dejedion,  which  takes  from  them  much  of  the  fat- 
"  isfaftion  arifmg  from  their  faith  in  very  important 
"  and  interefting  truths.     Happy,  indeed,  is  the  per- 
«'  fon  who  enjoys  a  flow  of  fpirits  fo  even  and  con- 
*'  ftant  as  never  to  have  experienced  this.     Of  myfelf, 
«  I  muft  fay,  that  I  have  been  far  from  being  fo  hap- 
««  py.     Doubts  and  difficulties  have  often  perplexed 
"  me,  and  thrown  a  cloud  over  truths,  which,  in  the 
«  general  courfe  of  my  life,  are  my  fupport  and  con- 
"  folation.     There  are   however   many   truths,  the 
"  conviclion  of  which  I  never  lofe.     One  conviction 
"  in  particular,  remains  with  me,  amidft  all  fluclu- 
"  ations  of  temper  and  fpirits  :   I  mean,  my  belief  of 
*'  this  maxim,  that  "  he  ivho  ivalketh  uprightly^  walkeih 
^^furely'*     There  has  not  been  a  moment,  in  which  I 
«  have  found  it  poffible  to  doubt,  whether  the  wifeft 
«  and  beft  courfe  I  can  take,  is  to  pracT:ife  virtue  and 
"  to  avoid  guilt.      Low  fpirits  can  only  give  new 
"  force  tb  this  convidion,  and  caufe  it  to  make  a 
"  deeper  impreffion.     Uncertainty,  in  other  inftances, 
"  creates  certainty  here.     For,  the  more  dark  and 
"  doubtful  our  ftate  under  God*s  government  is,  the 
"  more  prudent  it  muft  be  to  choofe  that   courfe 
<«  which  is  the  fafeft.'' 

Thus  have  I  confidered  the  obfervation  in  the 
text  as  a  rule  for  thofe  who  have  their  doubts  refpeft- 
ing  revelation,  and  a  future  ftate  ;  and  to  them  it  is 
of  great  importance  to  walk  uprightly.  In  this  cafe 
they  will  take  the  fafe  fide  ;  but  fhould  they  live  in 
fin,  they  will  offend  againft  all  thofe  rules  of  pru- 
dence, which  govern  them  in  the  common  concerns 
of  fife,  and  which  ought  alv/ays  to  regulate  the  ac- 
tions of  a  reafonable  being.  For,  as  I  have  repeat- 
edly obferved,  vice  can  fecure  to  them  no  poffible 

good  J 


1^  THE     SECURITY    OF  [SeRM.  T, 

good ;  and,  on  their  own  principles,  it  may  prove 
their  ruin. 

I  NOW  proceed  to  coniider  the  doftrine  of  the 
wife  man,  as  it  fliould  aflPecl  thofe  who  acknowledge 
the  gofpel,  and  are  hrmly  perfuaded  of  a  future  ftate 
of  exiftence.  Unhappy  for  the  caufe  of  truth,  many 
different  and  jarring  opinions  divide  thofe  who  call 
themfelves  Chriftians.  This  has  given  great  difguft 
to  fome  captious  minds.  The  ill-difpofed  it  has  em- 
boldened openly  to  deride  the  whole  fyftem  ;  and  in 
many  ferious  minds  it  has  created  the  utmoft  per- 
plexity y  but  if  we  only  refolve  to  walk  uprightly, 
it  cannot  go  ill  with  us  in  the  end.  In  the  final  ilfue 
of  things,  good  works  will  effentially  profit  us,  how- 
ever the  controverfy  about  them  may  be  decided. 
Though  fome  may  fay,  that  we  are  juftified  by  faith 
alone ;  others,  that  faith  mud  be  an  aftive  principle  j 
others  again,  that  we  arc  freely  jufiiified  by  grace  ; 
yet  we  cannot  miftake,  if  we  fear  God  and  work 
righteoufnefs.  In  this  cafe,  we  ihall  certainly  be  ac- 
cepted of  him,  however  perplexed  our  religious  opin- 
ions may  be. 

So  with  refpect  to  the  future  punifliment  of  fin, 
there  is  a  great  variety  of  opinions  among  Chrifi:ians. 
Some  fuppofe,  that  the  finner,  however  abandoned  in 
life,  and  hardened  at  death,  will  be  furprifed  with  a 
free  and  full  pardon  at  the  judgment-day.  Others 
maintain,  that  the  wicked  will  never  be  raifed  from 
their  graves,  and  that  annihilation  at  death  will  be 
their  portion.  Others  maintain,  that  they  will  be 
puniflied  in  proportion  to  the  guilt  contraded,  and 
that  their  punifliment  will  work  a  m.oral  cure.  Oth- 
ers contend,  that  after  ages  of  inexpreflible  torment, 
they  will  be  blotted  out  of  being.  And  finally,  there 
are  thofe  who  confider  all  future  punifliment  is  vin- 
dictive. 


SeRM.  I.]  A    VIRTUOUS    COURSEo  if 

diaive,  and  maintain  that  fuch  as  die  in  their  fms 
will  fmart  forever  under  the  chaftening  hand  of  God, 
and  will  be  exhibited  to  the  view  of  creation  as  mon- 
uments of  God*s  vernal  difpleafure  againft  fm.  To 
one  or  other  of  thefe  opinions  moft  Chriftians  will 
affent ;  but  which  ever  they  may  embrace,  it  will  Hill 
remain  an  eternal  truth,  that  "  he  who  walketh  up- 
rightly, walketh  furely." 

A  MAN  cannot  plead,  that  the  controverfies  on  this 
head  have  fo  bewildered  him  that  he  is  at  a  lofs  what 
Courfe  to  take  ;  for  the  fafety  of  a  good  life  remains 
undifputed.  If  he  cannot  look  fo  far  intd  futurity, 
as  to  make  up  his  own  opinion  as  to  the  wages  of 
fm,  he  can  fee  fo  far  before  him,  as  to  perceive  the 
abfolute  fecurity  of  virtue.  Here  can  be  no  difpute. 
Every  man  muft  know,  that  by  walking  uprightly, 
he  fhall  efcape  the  future  confequences  of  moral  evil, 
whether  thofe  confequences  be  more  or  lefs  terrible. 
Whatever  the  curfe  of  the  law  may  be,  whether  tem- 
porary or  endlefs  fuffering,  whether  difcipline  or  de- 
ftrudion,  that  curfe  will  never  be  executed  on  hini, 
who  devotes  himfelf  to  God  and  his  duty.  This 
confideration  ihould  therefore  effeaually  difpofe  to  a 
life  of  religion,  becaufe  on  every  principle  it  is  fafe. 

Permit  me  then,  to  recommend  an  upright  or  re- 
ligious courfe  of  behaviour  by  the  perfed  fecurhy  with 
which  it  is  attended.  In  the  praftice  of  fm,  it  is  im> 
polTible  that  any  man,  who  refleas,  fliould  think  or 
feel  himfelf  fecure.  He  may  endeavour  to  perfuade 
himfelf  that  there  is  no  God,  no  providence,  no 
moral  government  ;  yet  there  will  be  moments  in 
which  he  will  tremble.  He  may  labour  to  believe 
that  there  will  be  no  future  ftate  of  retribution,  yet 
he  will  not  be  able  to  expel  the  idea  from  his  mind. 
He  may  exert  himfelf  to  overcome  all  apprehenfions 
C  ^^ 


l8  THE    SECURITY    OF  f&ERM.  L 

of  a  place  of  punilhment,  yet  he  will  never  gain  a 
complete  victory  over  his  fears.  Religion,  with  its 
awful  truths,  will  often  haunt  his  imagination  ;  and 
fo  long  as  he  walks  according  to  the  courfe  of  this 
world,  he  will  feel  infecure. 

How  important  then,  is  it  that  we  walk  uprightly  ? 
Do  we  wifli  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  any  poffible 
danger,  then  let  us  avoid  every  falfe  and  evil  way. 
If  we  cultivate  the  temper,  and  practife  the  duties  o£ 
Chriftians,  what  can  harm  us  ?  By  walking  upright- 
ly, we  fliall  be  fure  of  the  approbation  of  our  own 
minds  ;  by  walking  foberly  and  righteoufly,  we  ihall 
probably  fecure  the  approbation  of  others.  But  this 
is  certain,  if  we  fear  him,  and  keep  his  command- 
ments, we  fhall  aifuredly  be  approved  of  God.  He 
is  a  being  of  infinite  rectitude.  Abundant  proofs 
has  he  given,  that  he  loves  righteoufnefs,  and  hates 
iniquity  ^  and  this  difpofition  will  be  ftill  more  clearly 
manifefted,  when  his  fcheme  of  moral  government 
ihall  be  completed.  Then  will  it  appear,  that  the  up- 
right have  chofen  the  good  part ;  and  that  they  have 
taken  effectual  meafures,  when  they  fail  here,  to  fecure 
a  welcome  into  everlafting  habitations. 

Let  thefe  confiderations  induce  every  one  to  walk 
uprightly.  This  will  be  true  policy,  if  you  only  re- 
gard your  prefent  interefl.  Would  it  be  your  choice 
to  feel  eafy  within,  and  to  be  tolerably  fatisfied  with 
yourfelves  ?  Would  it  be  your  choice  to  purfue  thofe 
meafures  which  will  probably  raife  you  in  fociety,  and 
give  you  deferved  importance  in  the  eyes  of  others  ? 
Would  it  be  your  choice  to  pofTefs  yourfelves  of  a 
competency,  or  a  plenty  of  thofe  outward  good 
things,  which  fo  obvioufly  tend  to  the  convenience 
of  human  life  ?  Then  accept  the  admonition  of  the 
wife  man,  to  walk  uprightly.     The  path  of  virtue  is 

plain 


SeRM.  Lj  A    VIRTUOUS    COURSE.  I5 

plain  and  fafe  ;  and  the  tendency  of  a  regular  courfe 
of  behaviour  is  to  promote  our  honour,  our  tran- 
quillity, and  happinefs. 

The  obfervation  in  the  text  is  a  rule  for  all :  but 
to  the  young  it  is  a  leffon,  which  ought  to  be  writ- 
ten in  letters  of  gold.  No  words  can  defcribe  the 
importance  of  beginning  well.  Upon  our  early  hab- 
its often  depend  our  ufefulnefs  and  refpedability  in 
this  world,  and  our  happinefs  in  that  which  is  to 
come.  You  will  be  told  perhaps,  that  religion  is  not 
the  proper  concern  of  youth.  You  will  be  told,  that 
the  Supreme  Being  does  not  concern  himfelf  with 
the  actions  of  his  creatures,  or  if  he  does,  that  he  is 
too  good  to  refent  their  mifcondud.  You  will  be 
told,  that  all  the  ftories  of  a  future  ftate,  and  a  fu- 
ture punifliment  were  invented  for  political  purpofes. 
You  will  be  told,  that  the  whole  fyftem  of  religion  is 
a  ftate-engine,  and  that  great  minds  acknowledge  no 
other  religion  but  that  of  nature.  Examples  of  prof- 
perous  wickednefs  will  be  fet  before  you  j  and  you 
will  be  called  to  obferve  how  they  fucceed,  who  pre- 
tend not  to  have  the  fear  of  God  before  their  eyes. 
In  this  age  of  licentioufnefs,  many  falfe  maxims  will 
be  advanced,  many  audacious  principles  wiU  be  advo- 
cated, many  libertine  fentiments  will  be  propagated, 
many  indecent  refleclions  will  be  caft  upon  facred 
things,  and  many  blafphemies  will  be  uttered  againft 
the  name  and  religion  of  Jefus.  But  let  none  of  thefe 
things  move  you.  Do  you  refolve,  through  that  di- 
vine afliftance  which  God  has  pleafed  to  offer,  that 
however  others  may  choofe  to  condud,  you  will 
walk  uprightly.  Now,  in  the  morning  of  life,  culti- 
vate the  fear,  and  devote  yourfelves  to  the  fervice  of 
the  Moft  High.  Study  to  know  the  whole  extent  of 
your  duty  5   and  knowing  the  will  of  your  moral 

governor. 


£9  EXCUSES    OF  [^Serm.  11^ 

governor,  conform  to  it  unfeignedly,  and  without 
delay. 

So  will  your  integrity  and  uprightnefs  preferve 
you.  Tliey  will  preferve  you  from  the  reproaches 
of  a  wounded  confcience.  They  will  preferve  you 
from  the  contempt  of  the  wife,  and  procure  you  the 
general  approbation  of  mankind.  The  probability  is, 
that  they  will  preferve  you  from  the  more  prefling 
calamities  of  life,  even  if  they  fhould  not  reward  you 
with  riches.  But  on  the  moil  unfavourable  fuppo- 
fition,  you  will  be  fafe  ;  your  beft  intereft  will  be  fe- 
cured  ;  nothing  will  materially  harm  you,  inafmuch 
as  you  are  followers  of  that  which  is  good.  "  For 
the  Lord  is  a  fun  and  fliield,  the  Lord  will  give  grace 
and  glory :  no  good  thing  will  he  withhold  from 
them  who  walk  uprightly." 


)etmon  n. 


Excufes  of  the  Irreligious. 

Luke  xiv.   i8. 

*^  AND    TKEY    ALL,    WITH    ONE    CONSENT,    BEGAN    TQ 
MAKE    EXCUSE." 

THESE  words  are  part  of  the  well-known  par- 
able, in  which  our  Lord  foretells  the  rejection 
of  the  Jews,  and  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles.  Of  all 
fubjeds,  this  was  moft  offenfive  to  his  countrymen, 
and  therefore  he  feldom  introduced  it  in  plain  terms, 
That  divine  inftruclor  always  imparted  truths,  acr 

cording 


3eRM.  II.j  THE    IRRELIGIOUS.  21 

cording  as  liis  auditory  could  bear  tliem.  Well 
knowing  what  was  in  man,  he  gracioully  conde- 
fcended  to  confult  his  weaknefs  ;  and  he  would  not 
defeat  his  own  labours,  by  difclofing  fecrets  which 
were  particularly  obnoxious ;  or  by  adminiftering  re. 
proof  in  a  manner,  which  could  only  prejudice  or  in- 
flame. His  confummate  prudence,  in  this  refpecb, 
will  account  for  the  many  parables,  with  which  his 
difcourfes  abound. 

That,  from  which  I  have  taken  the  text,  deferves 
your  ferious  attention.  Our  Lord  was  an  invited 
gueft  at  the  table  of  a  pharifee.  During  the  repaft, 
he  delivered,  according  to  cuftom,  many  ufeful  lef- 
fons  ;  nor  was  his  converfation  difpleafmg  to  thofe 
who  fat  with  him  at  meat :  fo  far  from  it,  one  of  the 
guefls  was  much  delighted,  and  he  could  riot  but 
throw  Gut  an  expreilion,  intimating  how  happy  he 
fhould  be,  could  he  be  admitted  into  the  kingdom  of 
the  Mefliah,  and  partake  of  the  entertainments  which 
would  be  there  provided.  On  this  natural  occafion, 
our  Lord  thought  proper  to  remind  him  and  the 
company,  that  many,  who  now  profelTed  to  look  for 
that  kingdom,  would  hereafter  oppcfe  its  eftablifli- 
ment  ;  fo  widely  would  it  differ  from  their  expecla^ 
tions,  that  they  would,  in  fact,  flight  and  reject  it. 
To  imprefs  this  idea,  he  uttered  the  following  parable, 

"  A  CERTAIN  man  made  a  great  fupper,  and  bade 
many  ;  and  fent  his  fervant,  at  fupper-time,  to  fay  to 
them  that  were  bidden,  come,  for  all  things  are  now 
ready.  And  they  all,  with  o?ie  confent,  began  to  make  ex- 
cufe.  The  firft  faid,  I  have  bought  a  piece  of  ground, 
and  I  muft  ne6ds  go  and  fee  it  ;  I  pray  thee  have  me 
excufed.  And  another  faid,  I  have  bought  five  yoke 
of  oxen,  and  I  go  to  prove  them  ;  I  pray  thee  have 
pie  excufed.      And  another  faid,  I  have  married  a 

wife. 


52  EXCUSES     OE  [SeRM.  II* 

wife,  and  therefore  I  cannot  come."  All  thefe  excufes 
were  carried  to  the  lord.  At  fuch  treatment,  the 
mafter  of  the  houfe  was  much  enraged  ;  he  felt  the 
affront  which  was  put  upon  him,  and  highly  refented 
the  ingratitude  of  thofe,  for  whom  fo  fplendid  an  en- 
tertainment had  been  made.  Difappointed  of  thefe 
'guefts,  he  refolved,  however,  to  fupply  their  place 
with  others.  Accordingly,  he  directed  his  fervant 
to  traverfe  the  city,  and  to  bring  to  his  table  any  per- 
fons  that  he  might  happen  to  meet  with,  the  pooreft 
and  moft  abject  not  excepted.  Thefe  orders  were 
executed,  and  yet  the  table  was  not  filled.  He  there- 
fore, once  more,  fent  forth  his  fervant,  directing  him 
to  vifit  the  highways  and  hedges,  and  to  ufe  the  moft 
earneft  intreaty  with  travellers  of  every  defcription, 
in  order  to  induce  them  to  become  his  guefts.  For, 
faid  he,  "  of  thofe  which  were  bidden,  not  one  fliall 
tafte  of  my  fupper." 

From  a  careful  examination  of  this  parable,  it  Is 
eafy  to  afcertain  its  meaning.  The  mafter  of  the 
houfe  reprefents  the  bleffed  God.  The  great  fupper 
intends  the  difpenfation  of  the  gofpel.  The  guefts 
iirft  invited  are  the  Jews.  The  excufe,  which  they 
fent,  intends  their  rejection  of  the  gofpel,  when  they 
received  the  gracious  offer.  The  idle  and  frivolous 
pleas,  which  they  refpectively  made,  convey  a  lively 
idea  of  the  foolifli  grounds  on  which  the  Jews  re- 
jected the  Son  of  God,  and  the  religion  which  he 
came  to  eftablifh.  The  difpleafure,  teftified  by  the 
mafter  of  the  houfe,  fliows  the  juft  indignation  of 
God  againft  his  chofen  people.  The  invitation  given 
to  the  poor,  the  lame,  and  blind,  reprefents  the 
preaching  of  the  gofpel,  and  the  offers  of  falvation  to 
the  Gentiles.  Poverty  and  mifery  are  terms,  which 
well  defcribe  their  moral  ftate.     The  direction,  to 

compel 


SeRM.  IIJ  *rHE    IRRELIGIOUS.  2^ 

compel  them  to  come  in,  leads  us  to  apprehend  the 
arguments,  which  were  employed  to  convince  their 
underftandings,  and  the  various  other  meafures  to 
which  the  apoftles  had  recourfe,  in  order  to  win 
them  over  to  the  Chriftian  faith.  And  the  conclud- 
ing remark,  that  "  none  of  them,  who  were  firft  bid- 
den, ihould  tafte  of  the  fupper,"  evidently  refers  to 
the  rejedion  of  the  Jewilh  nation. 

In  this  view  of  the  parable,  it  is  a  prediction  of 
the  fate  of  the  gofpel  among  the  Jews,  and  the  offer 
of  it  to  the  Gentiles  ;  and  how  wonderfully  was  this 
predidion  accomplifhed  ?  Chrift  came  to  his  own, 
and  his  own  received  him  not.  Notwithftanding  the 
miracles,  wonders,  and  ligns,  by  which  his  divine 
miffion  was  attefted,  yet  the  nation  would  not  receive 
him  as  the  expeded  Meffiah.  So  far  from  it,  they 
reprefented  him  as  an  impoftor,  and  condemned  his 
doctrines  as  heretical  and  impious  in  the  higheft  de- 
gree. When  the  apoftles  attempted  their  converlion, 
they  were  equally  obftinate.  And  thus  the  nation 
continued  not  only  to  rejedl,  but  to  oppofe  the  gof- 
pel, till  they  were  as  juftly,  as  they  were  remarkably, 
puniflied  for  their  wickednefs.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  gofpel  was  offered  to  the  Gentiles,  and  the  offer 
was  generally  accepted.  Churches  were  gathered  in 
all  parts  of  the  Roman  empire  ;  and  fo  greatly  did 
Chriftians  multiply,  that  paganifm  took  the  alarm, 
and  every  meafure  was  employed  to  fupport  its  de- 
clining interefts.  Thus  did  the  Gentiles  occupy  that 
place  which  had  been  filled  by  the  Jews  ;  and  thus 
did  the  one  partake  of  that  fpiritual  entertainment 
which  had  been  provided  for  the  other. 

Comparing  then,  the  prediction  and  the  event, 
we  cannot  but  perceive  their  wonderful  correfpon- 
dence  j  and  we  cannot  but  acknowledge  the  wifdom 

of 


^4  EXCUSES     OF  pERM.  Hi 

of  our  Saviour  in  avoiding  the  explicit  declaration 
of  fuch  ingrateful  truths.  Had  they  been  conveyed 
in  any  other  form  than  that  of  a  parable,  the  Jews 
would  not  have  borne  then!  ;  confequently,  his  la- 
bours among  that  people  mull  have  been  at  an  end. 
But,  having  recourfe  to  this  innocent  art,  he  was 
enabled  to  purfue  his  v/ork  ;  to  enlighten  thofe  who 
were  willing  to  be  inflrufted  ;  to  fuggeft  to  others 
their  danger ;  and  to  furnilh  his  difciples  with  an  ad- 
ditional proof  of  his  divine  million.  For  when  the 
event  fiiould  clear  up  the  predidion,  his  followers 
Would  have  new  reafon  to  exclaim,  "  truly,  this  man 
Was  the  fon  of  God.*' 

Sufficient  has  now  been  faid  on  the  parable  at 
large.  Some  remarks  I  thought  neceffary,  in  order 
to  point  out  the  particular  connexion  of  thofe  words 
which  I  have  prefixed  to  my  difcourfe  ;  and  to  fliov.* 
in  what  fenfe  they  were  ufed  by  our  Saviour  :  but 
in  farther  profecution  of  the  fubjecl,  I  fhall  confider 
the  words  themfelves,  without  any  particular  refer- 
ence to  the  parable. 

And  let  me  fay,  in  regard  to  the  great  concerns  of 
religion,  men  are  as  ready  to  offer  frivolous  excufes, 
as  were  the  Jews  in  the  days  of  our  bleffed  Lord. 
Though  continually  importuned  to  take  upon  them 
the  Chriftian  profeffion,  and  to  fubjed  their  temper 
and  lives  to  the  laws  of  JefUs  Chrift  ;  yet  there  is  al- 
ways fome  obftacle  in  the  way  of  their  compliance. 
One  pleads  that  he  is  too  young  ;  another  that  he  is 
too  far  advanced  ;  one  that  he  is  diftracled  with  pri- 
vate, another  with  public  concerns ;  one  that  he  has 
doubts  refpeding  the  truth  of  Chriftianity,  another 
that  the  fyftem  is  unintelligible  ;  one  that  he  is  con- 
founded by  the  difputes  of  Chriftians,  another  that 
he  is  difcouraged  by  their  pradices.     All  thefe,  and 

manv 


SeRM.  n.]  'tHE    IRRELIGIOUS*  <2^ 

many  other  excufes,  have  been  offered  by  perfons, 
when  ferioufly  urged  to  receive  the  gofpel  as  the  rule 
of  their  faith  and  pradice.  In  order  to  judge  of 
thefe  pleas,  it  may  be  proper  to  give  them  a  particu- 
lar examination* 

And,  to  begin  with  that  which  is  of  moft  weight : 
fome  decUne  the  gofpel-oflPer,  becaufe  they  are  not  ab- 
folutely  certain  that  the  gofpel  is  true.  They  have 
their  doubts,  and  thofe  doubts  muft  be  cleared  up 
before  they  can  liften  to  the  chriftian  invitation. 
But  the  queftion  is,  did  thofe  doubts  originate  in 
fober  inquiry  ?  Did  thofe,  who  plead  them,  ever  ex- 
amine the  fubjecl  of  religion  ?  Have  they  impar- 
tially weighed  the  internal  and  external  evidence  of 
the  gofpel  ?  Have  they  ftudied  the  prophecies,  which 
relate  to  oiir  Saviour,  and  the  works,  whkh  he  per- 
formed ?  Have  they  perufed  the  hiftory  of  his  reli- 
gion, and  traced  its  progrefs  from  infancy  to  its  pref- 
ent  ftage  ?  In  ftiort,  have  they  exhaulled  all  the 
fources  of  information  ?  If  they  have  not  had  re- 
courfe  to  thefe  meafures,  their  doubts  will  not  excufe 
them  :  being  the  offspring  of  vanity  and  not  of  in- 
quiry, they  can  be  no  apology  for  their  conduct. 

But  I  will  fuppofe  that  they  have  inquired,  and 
ftill  profefs  to  doubt  :  the  queflion  then  is,  whether 
there  exifls  in  their  minds  a  flrong  prefumption 
againft  the  divine  authority  of  the  gofpel,  or  only  a 
dilTatisfaclion  with  the  evidence  afforded  ?  If  the  lat- 
ter, it  might  be  well  to  inquire,  whether  they  do  not 
2.d:  upon  lefs  evidence  in  their  temporal  concerns  ? 
In  the  courfe  of  bufinefs,  men  often  take  meafures, 
when  they  are  very  doubtful  of  the  event.  The 
merchant,  the  hufbandman,  the  flatefman,  eflcem  the 
probability  of  fuccefs  a  fuflicient  motive  for  their  ex- 
ertions. Were  they  to  infill  that  every  doubt  lliould 
D  be 


^6  EXCUSES    or  fSERM.  Ih 

be  removed  before  they  proceeded  to  action,  the  bufi- 
fiefs  of  life  would  ftand  ftill.  No  voyager  would  truft 
his  perfon,  no  merchant  his  treafure,  on  the  ocean; 
The  hufbandman  would  leave  his  lands  uncultivated  ; 
and  the  ftatefman  would  ceafe  to  projeft  meafures 
for  the  glory  and  happinefs  of  his  country. 

But  as  probabiHty  is  a  fufficient  ground  of  adion 
in  our  temporal  concerns,  why  not  in  the  concerns 
of  religion  ?  You  plead,  that  the  fubjed  of  religion 
is  attended  with  diihculties  ;  you  wifli  to  have  fome 
points  cleared  up  ;  you  require  greater  evidence  of 
its  truth  :  but  the  queflion  is,  weighing  all  things^ 
is  not  the  balance  of  proof  in  its  favour  ?  Are  you 
not  more  inclined  to  believe  that  the  religion  of  Jefus 
is  divine,  than  that  it  is  a  cunningly  devifed  fable  ? 
If  fo,  you  ought  to  make  it  your  rule  of  life.  To  be 
eonfiftent,  you  ought  to  be  a  Chriftian  in  temper  and 
pradice  ;  for  you  hazard  nothing  by  a  courfe  of 
evangelical  obedience.  But  you  hazard  every  thing 
if  you  rejed  the  gofpel,  whilft  you  acknowledge, 
that,  in  point  of  evidence,  there  is  a  prefumption  in 
its  favour.  Doubts,  therefore,  even  where  they  hon* 
eftly  arife,  are  not  a  fufficient  excufe  for  declining  the 
gofpel-offer.  So  long  as  men  act  in  defiance  of 
doubts,  in  the  common  purfuits  of  life,  it  will  be  in 
vain  to  urge  them,  where  religion  is  concerned. 

Again — That  our  private  and  public  engagements 
are  fuch,  that  we  have  no  time  for  religion,  is  a  plea^ 
which -will  by  no  means  operate  to  our  juftification. 
For  what  right  has  the  world  to  fuch  a  portion  of 
Gur  time  and  thoughts  ?  Why  do  we  fuffer  our 
minds  to  be  fo  diftraded  by  its  inferior  concerns  ? 
That  prefent  objeds  fliould  have  fuch  a  dominion 
over  us  is  itfelf  a  crime.  And  would  it  not  be  very- 
extraordinary  if  one  crime  were  an  excufe  for  an- 
other I 


SeRM.  n.]  THE   IRRELIGIOUS.  ^y 

Other  ?  But  the  plea  itfelf  is,  to  the  laft  degree,  ab- 
ford.  It  is  grounded  on  the  fuppofition,  that  re- 
ligion is  a  bufinefs  by  itfelf ;  that  there  are  times 
and  feafons  for  it  ;  and  that  it  is  as  wholly  difcon- 
neded  with  the  purfuits  of  life,  as  one  profelTion  is 
unlike  another.  But  this  is  one  of  the  greateft  and 
moft  dangerous  of  errors.  It  is  the  parent  of  fuper- 
IHtion  J  and  it  is  the  fource  of  thofe  numerous  fop- 
peries, by  which  religion  has  been  difgraced,  and  its 
influence  defeated. 

HowEVEPv  employed,  in  whatever  Tphere  a  perfon 
may  move,  whether  his  engagements  be  of  a  public 
pr  private  nature,  ftill  he  is  under  no  neceflity  to 
negled:  the  duties  of  religion.  Religion  fhould  min- 
gle itfelf  with  every  pleafure  and  purfuit  of  life. 
And  let  me  obferve,  a  man  may  be  as  religious, 
when  following  his  lawful  calling,  as  when  engaged 
in  the  worfliip  of  God.  He,  who  endeavours  to 
maintain  his  family,  to  difcharge  his  debts,  and  to 
requite  fociety  for  the  benefits  derived  from  it  ;  he, 
who  by  every  honeft  meafure,  ftudies  his  own  inde- 
pendence and  the  public  good  ;  he,  in  fhort,  who, 
in  all  his  tranfactions,  makes  confcience  of  fpeaking 
the  truth,  and  doing  that,  which  is  right,  he  is  the 
religious  man.  To  read,  to  meditate,  and  pray,  are 
but  a  part  of  our  duty.  The  gofpel,  it  is  true,  lays 
great  ftrefs  on  devotion.  But  it  lays  equal  ftrefs  on 
moral  honefty,  on  veracity,  on  benevolence,  on  hu- 
mility, on  patience,  on  meeknefs,  on  chaftity,  and 
on  every  thing,  which  can  adorn,  and  exalt  human 
nature.  When  therefore,  we  difplay  thefe  virtues, 
we  difplay  genuine  features  of  the  chriftian  charader. 

Admitting  this  reprefentation,  what  can  be  more 
abfurd,  than  the  excufe  now  under  examination  ?  A 
man  pleads,  that  he  has  not  time  to  attend  to  re- 

ligion  ; 


nS  EXCUSES   OF  [Serm.  II. 

ligion  ;  that  is,  his  bufinefs  is  of  fo  diftra6ting  a  na- 
ture, his  thoughts  are  fo  employed,  and  his  hours  fo 
occupied,  that  he  cannot  do  juftly  and  exercife  mer- 
cy ;  cannot  fpeak  the  truth  ;  cannbt  regulate  his 
appetites  and  pailions  ;  cannot  obferve  the  rules  of 
temperance  ;  cannot  do  thofe  things,  which  are  lovely 
and  of  good  report  !  How  would  fuch  an  extraor- 
dinary plea  be  received  at  a  human  tribunal.  If  it 
would  not  excufe  us  to  the  civil  magiftrate,  it  cer- 
tainly would  not  to  the  righteous  God. 

But,  it  will  be  replied,  that  they,  who  offer  this 
excufe,  intend  no  more  than  this,  that  their  avoca- 
tions will  not  permit  them  to  attend  to  thofe  means, 
by  which  a  religious  character  is  formed.  They 
have  not  time  to  ftudy  the  word  of  God,  and  to  med- 
itate on  his  perfections.  They  have  not  time  to  af* 
fift  at  his  worlhip,  or  to  maintain  a  more  private  in- 
tercourfe  with  him,  To  this  I  anfwer,  a  very  fmall 
degree  of  economy  on  their  part,  would  remove  this 
difficulty.  We  can  always  redeem  time  for  inferior 
purpofes.  We  can  find  hours  for  relaxation  and 
am.ufement.  And  I  am  confident,  we  might  fo  man- 
age our  time,  as  to  referve  fome  portion  for  the  re-, 
ligious  cultivation  of  our  heart.  However  careful 
and  troubled  about  worldly  things,  there  is  no  man, 
who,  if  fo  difpofed,  may  not  fecure  the  good  part, 
which  will  never  be  taken  from  him. 

Another  excufe  for  neglecting  religion  is  the  dif,. 
putes,  which  have  divided  its  profelTors.  It  is  urged, 
that  Chriftians  cannot  agree  among  themfelves  :  that 
what  is  herefy  with  one,  is  orthodoxy  with  others  ; 
and,  amidfl  fo  many  jarring  opinions,  that  it  muft  be 
impoflible  ever  to  difcover  the  truth.  To  this  I 
would  reply,  that  Chriftians  differ  lefs  in  reality  than 
;n. appearance.     And,  where  the  difference  is  reai,  it 

h 


SeRM.  II.]  THE    IRRELIGIOUS.  ftg 

is  not  of  that  moment,  which  fome  are  ready  to  im* 
agine.  The  leading  fads,  the  effential  doArines,  and 
the  moral  precepts  of  Chrillianity,  have  given  occa- 
iion  to  few  difputes.  If  we  examine  the  various  feds 
into  which  the  chriftian  world  is  broken  up,  we  ftiall 
find  that  they  all  admit  the  benevolence  of  God,  and 
the  divine  miffion  of  his  Son,  the  necefiity  of  repen- 
tance and  a  holy  life,  and  the  certainty  of  falvation, 
if  we  believe  and  obey.  So  very  few  are  the  excep- 
tions to  this  remark,  that  we  may  receive  it  as  a 
general  truth.  But  if  Chriftians  be  agreed  in  the  ef^ 
fentials,  why  fhould  their  difputes  about  the  circum-. 
ftantials  of  religion  operate  to  its  difadvantage  ?  Why 
fliould  I  neglect  Chriftianity,  or  treat  it  with  con- 
tempt, becaufe  fome  point,  which  may  far  exceed 
the  human  comprehenfion,  cannot  be  cleared  up  to 
univerfal  fatisfaclion  ? 

But  to  give  this  plea  (which  is  a  very  popular 
one)  all  its  weight,  I  will  fuppofe,  that  the  moft  im- 
portant dodlrines  of  the  gofpel  may  have  been  the 
fubjecl  of  controverfy.  What  follows,  that  the  got. 
pel  itfelf  is  unworthy  of  our  regard  ?  By  no  means. 
We  only  learn  from  this  fad,  the  neceffity  of  proving, 
all  things,  and  of  embracing  thofe  opinions,  which 
appear  to  be  bell  fupported.  Inftead  of  negieding, 
this  fliould  be  a  motive  with  us  to  exercife  our  pow- 
ers. And  if  a  fpirit  of  inquiry  be  accompanied  with 
a  good  life,  we  Ihall  know  of  every  dodrine,  whether 
it  be  of  God,  or  whether  it  be  merely  a  human  in- 
vention. 

But  to  proceed — As  the  difputes,  fo  the  pradices 
of  Chriftians  have  been  allec^ed  as  an  excufe  for  difre- 
garding  their  religion.  It  has  been  urged,  that  their 
temper  and  lives  are  no  better  than  thofe  of  other 
men.     Inftances  of  grofs  hypocrify  have  been  pointed 

out; 


3»  EXCUSES     OF  [SeRM.  II, 

out ;  and  all  the  wickednefs  of  the  dark  ages  has 
been  produced  as  a  ilanding  witnefs  againft  the 
chriftian  name.  But  if  profelTors  of  the  gofpel  have 
walked  unworthy  of  it,  does  that  authorize  a  con- 
tempt, or  neglect  of  the  fyfcem  itfelf  ?  So  far  from 
it,  they  who  offer  this  exeufe,  fliould  become  the  ad- 
vocates for  Chriftianity  ;  and  fhould  endeavour,  by 
their  own  good  example,  to  refcue  it  from  contempt. 
They  fliould  difplay  in  their  temper  and  lives  the 
excellency  of  the  inflitution-  This  would  be  far 
more  rational  than  to  defpife  religion,  becaufe  it  is 
fometimes  wounded  in  the  houfe  of  its  friends. 

Again — Some  decline  an  acquaintance  with  re- 
ligion by  the  idle  pretence,  that  it  is  not  fuited  to 
their  time  of  life.  This  has  been  the  plea  of  young 
perfons,  when  urged  to  take  upon  them  the  chriftian 
profeflion.  But  of  all  excufes,  this  is  the  moft  idle. 
Do  they  mean,  that  religion  is  of  fo  gloomy  a  caft, 
that  they  muft  forego  all  the  pleafures  of  life,  fliould 
they  become  Chriftians  ?  This  is  not  true  :  for  no  one 
rational  enjoyment  is  interdicted  by  the  gofpel.  Do 
they  mean,  that  it  is  not  fo  eafy  for  young  minds  to 
be  formed  to  the  duties  of  fobriety,  righteoufnefs, 
and  piety,  as  for  others  ?  This  is  likewifc  a  miftake. 
Before  bad  habits  are  contracted,  the  moral  fenfibility 
impaired,  the  confcience  hardened,  and  a  fenfe  of 
fliame  overcome,  the  yoke  of  Chrift  is  comparatively 
eafy,  and  his  burden  light.  The  fooner  we  attend 
to  religion,  the  eafier  will  it  be  to  acquire  the  virtues 
and  graces,  which  conftitute  the  Chriftian.  Hence 
the  morning  of  life  fliould  never  be  offered  as  an 
apology  for  eftranging  ourfelves  from  God  and  our 
duty. 

Finally— We  ought  not  to  perfevere  in  our  vices, 
ppon  the  principle  that  vvc  are  too  far  advanced  to 

reform. 


SeRM.  itj  THE   IRRELIGIOrUS.  ^1 

reform.  I  am  fenfible,  that  it  is  a  very  uncommon 
thing  for  "  a  man,  (to  ufe  the  words  of  Nicodemus) 
to  be  born,  when  he  is  old."  Bad  habits  ftrengthen 
with  years.  Confcience  lofes  its  influence,  and  re- 
ligion its  charms.  Hence  that  remark  of  the  pro- 
phet, "  Can  the  Ethiopian  change  his  Ikin,  or  the 
leopard  his  fpots  ?  then  may  you  do  good,  who 
have  been  accuftomed  to  do  evil." 

But,  though  difficult,  ftill  a  reformation  may  not 
be  abfolutely  impoflible,  even  for  perfons  of  this  de- 
fcription.  If  brought  to  a  fenfe  of  their  true  charac- 
ters, they  may,  through  that  grace  which  is  freely 
afforded,  be  renewed  in  the  temper  of  their  minds^ 
may  be  delivered  from  the  dominion  of  their  paf- 
fions,  and  enabled  to  walk  in  newnefs  of  life  and 
new  obedience.  ?Iuman  nature  is  confeffedly  weak. 
But  we  have  a  merciful  parent,  who  will  work  in  us 
to  will  and  to  do  of  his  own  good  pleafure.  We 
ought  not  therefore  too  haftily  to  conclude,  that  we 
have  advanced  fo  far  in  the  ways  of  wickednefs,  th-at 
we  Ihould  vainly  attempt  to  recover  thofe  of  honour 
and  virtue. 

These  remarks,  I  Would  charitably  hope,  will 
make  a  fuitable  impreffion  on  our  minds.  Ever 
iince  the  fall  of  man,  he  has  been  difpofed  to  frame 
excufes  for  his  mifconducl.  Ta  extenuate  her  guilt, 
the  mother  of  the  human  kind  urged  the  fubtilty  of 
the  ferpent ;  and  her  fatal  influence  was  plead  by  the 
companion  of  her  life  as  an  apology  for  his  tranfgref- 
fion.  The  fcribes  and  pharifees  urged  the  poverty 
and  meannefs  of  our  Saviour  as  a  juftification  of 
their  unbelief ;  and  the  multitude  excufed  themfelves 
by  the  inquiry,  have  any  of  the  rulers  believed  on 
bim  ?  In  the  context,  his  lands,  his  fl:ock,  or  a  new 
connexion,  was  urged  by  an  ungrateful  guefl  as  an 

apology 


32  JEXCUSES     OF  [SerM.  II* 

apology  for  his  rudenefs.  And  we  have  heard  fonic 
of  the  excufes  which  are  offered  at  the  prefent  day. 
But  let  us  not  affront  the  Supreme  Being  by  any  fuch 
idle  pretences  as  fome  have  framed,  in  order  to  give 
a  plaufibility  to  their  undutiful  behaviour.  Let  us 
not  urge  our  doubts,  when  we  are  confcious  that  we 
have  never  examined  the  foundation  which  fupports 
Chriftianity.  Let  us  not  plead  our  avocations,  be- 
caufe  fuch  a  plea  is  highly  abfurd.  Let  us  not  pre- 
tend that  we  are  difcouraged  by  the  jarring  opinions 
or  inconfiftent  behaviour  of  thofe  who  name  the 
name  of  Jefus.  Let  us  not  attempt  to  perfuade  our- 
felves  or  others,  that  the  day  of  falvation  has  paffed, 
or  that  we  want  that  iteadinefs  and  experience,  which 
are  pre-requifites  to  religion  ;  but  inafmuch  as  we  are 
invited  to  partake  of  the  gofpel-entertainment,  let  us 
clofe  with  the  invitation.  Let  us  thankfully  receive 
thofe  good  things  which  the  bounty  of  God  has  pro- 
vided ;  and  let  us  remember  that  a  refufal  on  our 
part  will  argue  the  utmoft  bafenefs  and  depravity. 
The  fate  of  thofe,  to  whom  the  text  has  a  more  im- 
mediate reference,  was  recorded  for  our  admonition  ; 
wherefore,  let  us  beware  left  we  be  involved  in  their 
condemnation.  Should  we  imitate  their  example, 
the  time  will  come  when  we  fliall  juftly  fuffer  for 
having  refufed  fo  great  falvation. 


'  mmtm^s^wmvm 


Sermon 


SeRM.  III.]  HABITUAL    DEVOTION*  3  j 


)ennon  m. 


Habitual  Devotion. 
Psalm  x.  4. 

^  GOD    IS    NOT    IN    ALL    HIS    THOUGHTS. 


t» 


IN  thefe  words,  David  is  characterizing  fome  bold 
tranfgreflbrs,  who  difturbed  his  reign  by  their 
outrageous  practices  ;  and  who  wounded  his  feelings 
by  their  indecent  refleclions  on  God  and  religion. 
Among  his  fubjecls,  fuch  examples  of  human  de- 
pravity were  not  uncommon.  From  his  productions 
it  appears,  that  many  unprincipled  perfons  difgraced 
the  age  in  which  he  flouriflied.  And  we  learn,  from 
his  complaints,  that  all  his  attempts  to  reclaim  them 
were  inefFe6hial. 

The  pfalm,  from  which  I  have  taken  the  text,  is 
written  in  a  very  ferious  flrain.  It  begins  with  a 
folemn  addrefs  to  God,  as  the  moral  governor  of 
the  world,  and  the  avenger  of  all  injuftice  and  im- 
piety. "  Why  ftandeft  thou  afar  off,  O  Lord,  why 
hideft  thou  thyfelf  in  times  of  trouble  ?"  He  then 
proceeds  to  a  defcription  of  the  wicked  ;  and  he  par- 
ticularly obferves,  that  God  is  not  in  all  their  thoughts. 
His  meaning  is,  that  they  did  not  fuffer  themfelves 
to  reflect  on  his  being,  his  prefence,  his  moral  gov- 
ernment, their  relation  to  him,  as  the  rightful  mon- 
arch of  the  univerfe,  and  their  ?.ccountablenefs  to  him 
as  a  future  judge.  Thefe  were  thoughts  which  they 
laboured  to  fupprefs.  And  they  had  recourfe  to 
E  fjch 


34  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  [SeRM.  IIL 

fuch  a  meafurc  in  order  that  they  might  feel  more 
comfortable  in  a  courfe  of  wickednefs. 

As  the  fame  difpofition  prevails  at  the  prefent  day, 
the  complaint,  uttered  by  David,  will  furnifh  a  proper 
fubjeft  for  a  religious  difcourfe.  I  fhall  therefore 
Gonfider,  when  the  charge  may  be  juftly  urged  ; 
point  out  the  natural  confequences  of  excluding  a 
moral  governor  from  all  our  thoughts,  and  recom- 
mend a  different  line  of  behaviour. 

That  the  awful  majefty  of  God  fhould  always 
poffefs  our  minds  is  not  to  be  expected.  The  invari- 
able contemplation  of  any  one  object  (were  it  poffible) 
would  abfolutely  unfit  us  for  the  duties  of  life,  and 
for  the  ftation  in  which  we  are  placed.  Whilft  we 
continue  in  this  world,  we  muft  experience  many 
cares,  and  purfue  many  concerns  of  a  merely  tem- 
poral nature.  We  mufl  make  provifion  for  our 
families  ;  we  muft  educate  our  children,  and  intro- 
duce them  into  life.  The  farmer  muft  cultivate  his 
lands.  The  merchant  muft  attend  to  the  objects  of 
commerce.  The  mechanic  muft  pradife  his  art. 
The  ftatefman  muft  ftudy  the  interefts  of  his  country, 
and  concert  meafures  for  its  fecurity.  The  legiflator 
muft  make  laws,  and  the  magiftrate  execute  them. 
The  judge  muft  hear,  and  the  advocate  plead  caufes. 
The  phylician  muft  attend  to  the  duties  of  his  hu- 
mane office  ;  and  men  of  all  profeffions  muft  aft  in 
the  line  of  their  calling.  There  is  fuch  a  thing  as 
the  bufmefs  of  life,  and  that  bufmefs  muft  be  attend- 
ed to. 

But  fuch  attention  would  be  Impoilible,  were  God, 
m  the  literal  fenfe,  in  all  our  thoughts.  Were  his 
infinite  and  adorable  majefty  to  be  the  fole  object  of 
our  contemplation,  the  bulinefs  of  life  would  ftand 
Itill.     With  fuch  an  awful  image  before  us,  we  could 

not 


SeRM.  lll'l  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  3^ 

not  fo  far  command  our  thoughts,  as  to  attend  to 
any  thing  but  the  excellencies  of  his  nature.  We 
fhould  be  dead  to  the  world  around  us,  and  indif- 
ferent to  all  its  concerns.  The  aclive  powers  of  the 
mind  would  undergo  a  total  relaxation  ;  and  the 
various  duties,  upon  which  the  exiftence  of  fociety 
depends,  would  be  altogether  negledled. 

In  all  ages,  there  have  been  fome  enthufiafts,  who 
have  endeavoured  to  perfect  their  nature  by  divine 
contemplations.  For  this  purpofe  they  have  retreat- 
ed from  the  world  ;  forlliken  its  pleafures  ;  aban- 
doned its  cares  ;  and  taken  up  their  melancholy 
abode,  either  with  the  beafts  of  the  defert,  or  with 
perfons  of  their  own  enthufiaftick  turn.  But  their 
zeal  has  never  recommended  them  to  the  more  en- 
lightened part  of  mankind.  From  their  contemplative 
lives  religion  has  derived  no  credit,  and  human  na- 
ture no  honour.  Nor  have  they  themfelves  out- 
ftripped  others  in  their  advances  towards  perfection. 

But  fuch  ufelefs,  fuch  inadive  beings  fliould  we 
all  become,  did  our  religion  oblige  us  to  exclude  all 
thoughts,  but  thofe  which  terminate  in  God.  As 
the  faint  rays,  which  proceed  from  the  diftant  ftars, 
are  loft  in  the  beams  of  the  fun,  fo  would  all  other 
ideas  be  fwallowed  up  in  thofe  of  the  divinity.  The 
bleflings  of  life  would  be  overlooked.  Our  country, 
our  families,  our  friends,  our  liberty,  and  even  our 
lives,  would  be  regarded  as  objects  of  utter  indiffe- 
rence. We  fliould  have  no  hearts  to  feel  ;  no  fpirit 
to  act.  In  fliort,  our  focial  nature  would  undergo 
an  entire  change,  were  we  to  call  off  the  mind  from 
all  objedls,  but  the  Supreme  Being  ;  and  to  abandon 
every  purfuit,  but  the  contemplation  of  his  majefty. 

It  is  plain  then,  that  David  does  not  condemn  the 
wicked,  becaufe  that  God  was  not,  in  this  fenfe,  in 

all 


36  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  [SeRM.  HI, 

all  their  thoughts.  Far  other  was  the  ground  of  his 
complaint.  His  controverfy  with  the  licentious  part 
of  mankind  arofe  from  that  habitual  thoughtlefsnefs 
of  God,  and  contempt  of  his  governing  authority, 
which  appeared  in  all  their  words  and  actions.  He 
condemned  them,  becaufe,  fo  far  from  fetting  God 
always  before  them,  they  ftudioufly  endeavoured  to 
baniih  him  from  their  minds  ;  becaufe  they  never 
raifed  their  eyes  to  him,  either  by  way  of  gratitude 
or  admiration  ;  becaufe  they  perverfely  endeavoured 
to  keep  out  of  view  the  perfeftions  of  his  nature,  his 
univcrfal  prefence,  his  particular  providence,  his  moral 
government,  his  righteous  laws,  his  juft  expectations 
from  the  human  kind,  and  the  future  account,  which 
every  one  muft  give.  Truths  fo  oppofite  to  their 
principles  and  pradices,  could  not  be  welcome  to  the 
wicked.  As  objefls  of  contemplation  they  could  af- 
ford them  no  pleafure ;  and  for  this  reafon,  thefe 
tranfgreffors  not  only  neglected  to  call  them  up,  but 
treated  them  as  intruders,  whenever  they  found  their 
way  into  their  minds,  or  folicited  their  attention. 
This  was  the  great  impiety,  againft  which  the  mon- 
arch protefts  in  fo  many  places  ;  and  to  which  he 
particularly  alludes  in  the  paffage  before  us. 

God  is  a  being  to  whom  v/e  all  ftand  in  the  moft 
important  relation  :  he  is  the  former  of  our  bodies, 
and  the  father  of  our  fpirits  :  as  he  originally  made, 
fo  he  upholds  us  in  being  ;  he  gives  us  all  the  good 
things  which  we  enjoy  ;  and  lie  prefer ves  us  amid  the 
numerous  evils  with  which  we  are  furrounded. 
Throughout  univerfal  nature  he  is  always  prefent  : 
he  is  intimately  acquainted  with  the  ftate  and  em^ 
ployment  of  our  minds  ;  and  he  is  a  fpectator  of  all 
the  adions  of  our  lives  :  he  is  our  fupreme  governor  ; 
^nd  as  fuch,  has  lignified  his  pleafure,  and  required 

obedience. 


SeRM.  lU'l  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  J^ 

pbcdience.  rinally,  he  is  our  judge  ;  and  upon  his 
righteous  deciiion  muft  depend  our  condition  in  the 
approaching  ftate.  Such  is  the  great  God,  fuch  his 
character,  and  fuch  the  mutual  relation  of  him  and 
})is  creatures. 

How  proper  then  is  it  that  fuch  a  being  fhould 
often  employ  our  ferious  meditation  ?  Ought  we  not 
frequently  to  furvey  the  perfedions  of  his  nature, 
and  gratefully  to  remember  our  obligations  to  his 
goodnefs  ?  Ought  not  the  mind  to  be  in  fuch  a  ftate, 
that  the  vifible  creation  and  the  events  of  providence 
will  readily  awaken  the  idea  of  a  God  ?  Though  we 
cannot  confine  all  our  contemplations  to  him,  yet  is 
it  not  reafonable  that  we  fliould  cultivate  a  fpirit  of 
habitual  devotion  ?  Surely,  it  is  :  and  confequently 
the  pfalmift  has  juftly  condemned  thofe,  "  who  have 
not  God  in  all  their  thoughts." 

And  from  this  view  of  the  fubjed:,  we  may  cafily 
determine  againft  what  particular  defcription  of  men 
the  fame  charge  may  be  now  urged.  They  who  fel- 
dom  reflect  on  a  power  above  ;  they  who  do  not 
trace  the  wifdom,  power,  and  goodnefs  of  God  in  the 
works  of  nature,  and  difpenfatlons  of  providence  ; 
they  who  do  not  habitually  keep  in  mind  that  God 
is  a  moral  governor,  and  all  men  his  fubjecls  ;  they, 
in  one  word,  who  do  not  employ  their  thoughts 
upon  any  of  thofe  objects  or  duties,  which  miore  im- 
mediately refpecl  the  moft  high,  may  be  ranked 
among  thofe  practical  atheifts,  which  David,  in  the 
pafilige  before  us,  meant  to  expofe.  They  put  tie 
thoughts  of  God  far  from  them  ;  and  they  defire  not 
the  knowledge  of  his  ways. 

I  NOW  proceed  to  point  out  the  confequences  of 
fuch  impiety  ;  and  by  "  not  having  God  in  all  our 
tlirf^ughts,"  we  lofe  a  very  powerful  motive  to  pra6ti- 

cal 


3$  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  [SeRM.  III. 

cal  virtue.  What  does  it  avail,  to  argue  that  right 
and  wrong  have  their  foundation  in  nature  ?  What 
avail  the  curious  fpeculations  of  the  learned  refpeft- 
ing  the  effential  difference  and  eternal  fitnefs  of 
things  ?  How  does  it  affecl  the  great  body  of  man- 
kind, to  tell  them  that  there  is  a  beauty  in  virtue, 
and  a  deformity  in  vice  ?  We  know  that  thefe  fpec- 
ulations may  amufe  the  underftanding,  but  that  they 
have  very  little  influence  over  the  heart.  The  cafe 
muft  be  brousfht  home  to  a  man's  confcience  ;  and 
the  idea  of  a  law-giver  muft  be  introduced,  in  order 
to  give  force  to  the  rules  of  morality. 

But  this  ftimulus  to  duty  is  loft  to  thofe  who  have 
not  God  in  all  their  thoughts :  they  do  not  recollect 
his  prefence  :  they  do  not  realize  that  his  eyes  are  in 
every  place,  beholding  both  the  evil  and  the  good. 
Hence  they  allow  themfelves  to  take  the  moft  wanton 
liberties  with  his  name  :  they  prefume  to  break  thofe 
laws,  which  he  has  eftablifhed  for  the  good  of  his 
creatures  :  they  venture  to  indulge  thofe  lufts  and 
paflions,  which  war  againft  the  foul  ;  and  they  con- 
trad  habits,  which  muft  fubject  them  to  infamy  here, 
and  ruin  hereafter.  Such  are  the  confequences  of 
keeping  out  of  view  the  moral  character  and  govern* 
ment  of  God. 

Could  men  be  perfuaded  to  fet  the  Lord  always 
before  them,  it  is  impolTible  that  they  fhould  be  in- 
attentive to  their  duty.  With  God  in  their  thoughts, 
they  could  not  blafpheme  him  ;  with  his  image  in 
tkeir  minds,  they  could  not  deliberately  violate  the 
truth,  defraud  their  neighbours,  opprefs  the  weak, 
or  do  injuftice  to  any  man.  Under  the  imprelTion, 
that  he  is  prefent  v/ith  them,  they  could  not  indulge 
to  fenfual  exceffes.  The  immediate  eye  of  a  mafter  is 
a  great  reftraint  upon  an  unworthy  fervant  j  and  the 

prefence 


Serm.  IU.]  habitual  devotion,  39, 

prefence  of  a  parent  may  have  a  good  effect  upon  an 
ill-difpofed  child.  If,  therefore,  we  could  realize  that 
the  eye  of  God  is  ever  upon  his  creatures,  that  he 
now  fees  in  fecret,  and  will  hereafter  reward  openly, 
we  fhould,  in  all  probability,  be  reftrained  from  many 
vicious  practices,  and  feel  ourfelves  fupported  and 
animated  to  a  courfe  of  duty. 

To  what  danger  then,  are  all  fuch  expofed,  as  put 
the  thoughts  of  God  far  from  them,  and  choofe  to 
forget  that  any  fuch  being  exifts  ?  They  mufl  be  an 
eafy  prey  to  all  manner  of  temptation.  They  are 
deftitute  of  the  beft  fecurity  againft  the  folicitations 
of  the  fenfes.  Some,  it  is  true,  out  of  a  mere  regard 
to  appearances,  may  abftain  from  the  more  dillion- 
ourable  vices.  Pride  may  prevent  others  from  mak- 
ing themfelves  vile.  The  ftation,  which  fome  nil,  or 
the  bufmefs,  which  they  purfue,  may  render  it  expe- 
dient that  they  fhould  be  tolerably  circumfped  in 
their  behaviour.  But  I  have  now  in  contemplation 
the  great  body  of  mankind  ;  and  to  reftrain  them 
from  vice,  and  to  keep  fteady  to  their  duty,  there 
muft  be  fomething  more  powerful  than  thefe  confid- 
erations.  A  fenfe  of  decency,  pride,  or  prudence, 
will  not  effectually  fecure  thefe  ends. 

How  important  then,  is  the  idea  of  a  God  ?  And 
how  neceffary  that  it  fhould  be  in  all  our  thoughts  ? 
What  pains  fhould  we  take  in  order  to  keep  a  fupreme 
law-giver  in  view  ?  How  often  fhould  we  remind 
ourfelves,  that  wherever  we  are,  he  is  prefent  ;  and 
whatever  we  do,  he  is  a  witnefs  ?  How  diligently 
fhould  we  labour  for  right  apprehenfions  of  the  rela- 
tion in  which  we  ftand,  and  for  a  clear  and  habitual 
fenfe  of  our  religious  obligations  ?  To  fuch  meafures 
we  fhould  certainly  have  recourfe,  if  aware  of  the 
temptations  which  are  in  the  world,  and  duly  con- 
cerned 


4^  JiABItUAL    DEVOTION.  [SeRM.  Ill, 

cerned  for  our  everlaftino:  welfare.  For  fo  lonsf  as 
we  fet  God  before  us,  we  fliall  be  prepared  for  refift- 
ance ;  and  we  ffiall  rallily  invite  our  own  fall,  when 
we  difmifs  liim  from  our  thouofhts. 

Again — By  lofing  fight  of  God,  as  the  author  of 
all  things,  and  difpofer  of  all  events,  we  deprive  our- 
felves  of  the  beft  fupport  in  time  of  trouble.  As  the 
fupreme  JehovaK  originally  made,  fo  he  governs,  the 
world.  Every  event  which  takes  place,  is  his  wife 
appointment.  It  is  he,  who  crowns  us  with  mercies  ; 
and  who  vifits  us  with  afilidion.  It  is  he,  who  kiBs 
and  makes  alive  ;  who  wounds  and  heals.  Our  fuf- 
ferings  of  every  kind  are  not  only  known  to  him, 
but  they  take  place  according  to  a  conftitution  of 
which  he  is  the  wife  author  ;  and  a  fyftem  of  gov- 
ernment of  which  he  is  the  head. 

This  being  the  true  ilate  of  the  cafe,  how  dark 
and  confufed  mull  every  thing  appear  to  thofe  who 
have  not  God  in  all  their  thoughts  ?  In  adverfity, 
they  will  never  look  beyond  fecond  caufes  :  in  time 
of  great  affliction,  they  will  think  only  of  their  own 
fufferings  :  fuch  pious  reflexions  as  fortify  the  vir- 
tuous, will  never  come  to  their  aid  :  they  will  never 
derive  confolation  from  thefe  fublime  truths ;  that  all 
nature  is  fubje<5fc  to  the  beft  of  beings  ;  that  the  very 
hairs  of  our  heads  are  numbered ;  that  he  watches 
over  us  with  the  tender  care  of  a  parent  ;  that  the 
troubles,  which  he  brings  upon  us,  are  intended  for 
our  benefit ;  and  that  all  things  fliall  \vork  together 
for  our  good,  if  we  fubmit  to  the  courfe  of  events 
with  a  proper  temper.  Under  the  moft  prefTing  ca- 
lamities, thefe  fuggeflions  will  fupport  the  good  man. 
Knowing  that  he  fuffers  according  to  the  will,  and 
by  the  divine  appointment  of  a  righteous  God,  he 

will 


Serm.  III.J         habitual  devotion^  4f. 

will  eommit  the  keeping  of  his  foul  to  him,  in  well- 
doing, as  to  a  faithful  creator. 

What  folly  then,  is  chargeable  on  thofe,  who  deny 
themfelves  thefe  confolations  ?  By  banifhing  the  idea 
of  a  God,  and  an  over-ruling  providence,  we  do  not 
place  ourfelves  beyond  the  reach  of  afflidion.  The 
virtuous  and  the  wicked  ftand  expofed  to  the  fame 
troubles  ;  and  every  man,  in  the  courfe  of  life,  will 
experience  fome  of  the  evils  which  imbitter  the  pref- 
ent  ftate.  But  men  of  habitual  devotion  comfort 
themfelves  with  the  thought,  that  the  hand  which 
afflidis,  will  gracioufly  fuftain  them :  whilft  clouds 
and  darknefs  will  encompafs  thofe,  who  do  not  realize 
the  agency  of  God,  and  advert  to  the  infinite  wifdoni 
and  equity  of  all  his  adminiftrations.  Expofed  then, 
as  we  all  are,  to  trials,  mortifications,  lofTes,  pains, 
and  difappointments,  how  impolitic  (to  give  it  no 
worfe  name)  is  an  habitual  forgetfulnefs  of  God. 

Once  more — By  excluding  from  our  ferious 
thoughts  the  greateft  and  beft  of  beings,  we  deny 
ourfelves  one  of  the  moft  exquifite  pofitive  pleafures, 
of  which  our  nature  is  capable.  What  delight  o£ 
fenfe  can  be  compared  with  that,  which  refults  from 
the  pious  contemplation  of  fo  perfedl  a  character  ? 
When  we  refleft,  that  there  is  a  being,  compared  with 
whom,  the  univerfe  is  nothing  in  itfelf,  nothing  to 
us  ;  when  we  contemplate  this  being  in  the  engaging 
light  of  a  father  and  benefactor  ;  when,  to  ufe  the 
words  of  a  great  moralift,  we  furvey  him  "  as  the 
"  fountain  of  all  power  and  jurifdiclion,  the  caufe  of 
"  all  caufes,  the  difpofer  of  the  lots  of  ail  beings,  the 
"  life  and  informing  principle  of  all  nature  ;  from 
*'  whofe  never-ceafing  influence  every  thing  derives 
"  its  capacity  of  giving  us  pleafure,  and  in  whom,  as 
*'  their  fource  and  centre,  are  united  all  the  degrees 
F  "of 


42  KAETTUAL    DEVOTION.  [SiRM.  Ill; 

*'  of  beauty  and  good,  which  we  can  obferve  in  the 
"  creation  ;"  when  our  minds  are  occupied  with 
fuch  contemplations,  do  we  not  find  the  moft  exalted 
entertainment  ?  1  appeal  not  to  enthufiafts,  but  to 
men  of  fober  refleclion.  I  appeal  to  thofe,  whofe  re- 
ligion is  rational,  and  whofe  devotion  is  not  the  ofF- 
fpring  of  ignorance,  but  of  ferious  inquiry. 

Sufficient  has  now  been  faid  to  expofe  the  im- 
piety in  the  text,  and  to  convince  men  not  only  of 
its  intrinfic  evil,  but  its  injurious  confequences.  It 
follov/s  then,  that  we  cannot  more  effectually  confult 
our  prefent  and  everlafling  intereft,  than  by  having 
God  habitually  in  our  thoughts.  To  the  prefent  age, 
even  pure  and  rational  piety  appears  in  a  forbidding 
light.  It  feems  to  be  a  general  opinion,  that  if  a 
man  keeps  his  word,  pays  his  debts,  occafionally  gives- 
to  the  poor,  and  neither  eats  nor  drinks  to  excefs,  he 
is  as  good  as  he  need  to  be.  But  can  any  one  reflect 
a  moment,  and  not  perceive  that  there  are  other  du- 
ties, befides  thofe  of  a  focial  nature  ?  So  far  indeed, 
as  any  man  difcharges  the  private  and  focial  duties, 
he  is  to  be  refpected.  It  is  an  honour  t-o  any  one  to 
keep  his  word  ,  perform-  his  engagements,  to  pay  his 
jufl  debts,  to  relieve  the  miferable,  to  forgive  his  ene- 
mies, and  to  ufe  the  bounties  of  providence  without 
abufing  them.  He  who  a6l:s  this  part,  acts  worthily  ;- 
and  ought  to  have  the  credit  of  his  virtues  ;  but  the 
point  on  which  I  iniift  is,  that  fuch  a  character  is  only 
partially  good.  To  conflitute  an  uniformly  good- 
man,  there  mufl  be  an  habitual  attention  to  thofe  du- 
ties, which  come  under  the  general  denomination  of 
piety.  We  are  indifpenfably  bound  to  love  God  with 
all  our  heart,  and  with  all  our  foul.  We  ought  to 
feel  grateful  v/hen  we  review  his  favours.  His  wif- 
dom  and  power  ought  to  excite  our  devout  admira- 
tion* 


Se  RM.  III.]  HABITUAL    DEVOTION.  43 

tion.  Wc  fliould  thankfully  rejoice  in  his  righteous 
government  ;  and  in  all  time  of  temptation  and 
trouble,  our  minds  ftiould  be  continually  direded 
towards  God.  Thefe  religious  duties  are  as  binding 
as  thofe  of  juftice  and  mercy.  To  negled  the  for- 
mer is  as  difhonourable  as  to  neg'lecl  the  latter.  Nor 
is  it  lefs  criminal  to  be  impious  than  to  be  unjuft. 

I  WOULD  therefore,  earneftly  recommend  a  ra- 
tional, but  habitual  devotion.  When  I  fpeak  of  de- 
votion, I  mean  ijpt  the  temporary  fervours  of  the 
enthufiaft.  I  mean  not  thofe  fudden  ftarts  of  relig- 
ious paflion,  which  are  excited  only  at  particular 
times,  by  particular  perfons,  or  on  particular  occa- 
fions.  Many  perfons  have  their  devout  moments. 
At  thofe  feafons,  their  zeal  borders  on  jextravagance. 
At  other  times,  their  paffions  appear  to  be  under  no 
manner  of  control,  and  their  levity  is  carried  to  a 
moft  criminal  extreme.  That  devotion  only,  which 
is  temperate  and  habitual,  is  acceptable  to  God,  and 
^n  honour  to  ourfelves.    . 

Under  this  conviction,  let  us  endeavour  to  pre- 
ferve  an  habitual  remembrance  of  Gpd.  Let  us  con- 
tinually fet  before  us  his  being,  his  moral  perfections, 
his  government,  his  prefence,  and  his  laws.  That 
the  fentiments  of  love,  reverence,  and  confidence  may 
be  kept  alive  in  our  bofoms,  let  us  not  reftrain  prayer. 
As  often  as  our  cares  will  admit,  let  us  exercife  the 
mind  in  ferious  meditation.  Let  us  ftudy  the  facred 
oracles,  particularly  thofe  parts,  which  are  devotional 
and  pradlical.  And  let  us  always  keep  in  view  the 
bright  example  of  our  blefled  mailer.  He  ever  ex- 
prelTed  the  moft  ardent  love,  the  moft  profound  rev- 
erence, the  moft  unfeigned  confidence,  and  the  moft 
£ordial  fubmiilion  to  the  blefled  God.  As  we  are 
honoured  with  his  name,  let  us  cultivate  his  temper. 


44  '         THE     CLEARNESS  [[SeRM.  IV. 

Let  the  knowledge  and  love  of  the  Deity  be  our  dif- 
tinguifhing  accomplifliment  :  fo  fhall  we  have  within 
us  a  fruitful  fource  of  tranquillity  and  joy.  As  our 
devotion  becomes  habitual,  we  fliall  become  wifer 
and  better.  In  afiliclion  we  fliall  have  a  divine 
fupport ;  in  temptation  a  fure  defence  :  our  virtue 
will  ftand  on  an  immoveable  foundation  ;  and  when 
our  flefli  and  ftrength  fail  us,  God  will  be  our  ftrengtJ^ 
and  our  portion  forever. 


pennon  iv. 

V-.i.  '  ,         ■         ,  "  .,1 

The  Clearnefs  of  Revelation^ 

Deuteronomy  xxx.  ii — 14. 

^'  FOR  THIS  COMMANDMENT,  WHICH  I  COMMAND 
THEE  THIS  DAY,  IS  NOT  HIDDEN  FROM  THEE,  NEI- 
THER IS  IT  FAR  OFF  *.  IT  IS  NOT  IN  HEAVEN, 
THAT  THOU  SHOULDEST  SAY,  WHO  SHALL  GO  UP 
FOR  US  TO  HEAVEN,  AND  ERING  IT  UNTO  US, 
THAT  WE  MAY  HEAR  IT,  AND  DO  IT  ?  NEITHER 
3S  IT  BEYOND  THE  SEA,  THAT  THOU  SHOULDEST 
SAY,  WHO  SHALL  GO  OVER  THE  €EA  FOR  US,  AND 
BRING  IT  UNTO  US,  THAT  WE  MAY  HEAR  IT, 
AND  DO  IT  ?  BUT  THE  WORD  IS  VERY  NIGH  UN- 
TO THEE,  IN  THY  MOUTH,  AND  IN  THY  HEART, 
THAT    THOU    MAYEST    DO    IT.'*' 

ONE  of  the  moil  plaufible  objecHons  againft 
the  Jewifli  and  Chriftian  revelations,  is  the 
pretended  obfcurity  of  that  volume,  in  v/hich  thofe 
revelations  are  preferved.     It  is  afferted,  that  the 

fcjriptures 


Serm.  IV.]  of  revelation.  45 

fcriptures  are  hard  to  be  underftood  ;  that  fuch  as 
profefs  to  believe  them,  are  greatly  divided  in  fenti- 
ment  ;  that  oppofite  doctrines  are  grounded  on  the 
fame  paffages  ;  and  that,  after  the  moil  laborious  in- 
veftigation,  many  impartial  inquirers  after  divine 
truth  have  been  under  the  mortifying  neceffity  of 
acknowledging  their  ignorance,  and  of  abandoning 
the  purfuit  not  merely  in  difappointment,  but  in  def- 
pair.  To  give  weight  to  thefe  affertions,  the  various 
feds,  into  which  the  religious  world  is  divided,  have 
been  brought  into  view.  And  to  confound  its  ad- 
vocates and  defenders,  the  queftion  has  been  artfully 
propofed,  whether  an  obfcure  revelation  is  not  a 
contradidion  in  terms  ! 

That  thefe  confident  affertions  are  not  lefs  un- 
friendly to  the  divine  authority,  than  to  the  efficacy 
of  the  infpired  volume,  will  not  be  difputed.  If  it 
could  be  proved  that  the  holy  fcriptures  are  abfolutely 
unintelligible,  it  would  be  very  prepofterous  to  afcribe 
them  to.  God.  To  pretend  that  the  wife  and  mer- 
ciful parent  of  mankind  gave  them  rules,  which  they 
could  neither  comprehend  nor  apply,  would  be  a 
moft  impious  reflection  on  his  charader.  That  the 
miftakes  and  perplexities,  the  doubts  and  difficulties 
of  his  creatures  fhould  furnifh  any  entertainment  to 
the  divine  mind,  is  an  infmuation  that  every  one 
prefent  will  rejed  with  horror. 

Nor  is  there  the  fmalleft  ground  for  fuch  a  re- 
fledion  on  the  blefled  God.  In  that  volume,  which 
believers  regard  as  the  repofitory  of  his  will,  and 
their  duty,  there  is  nothing,  which  can  create  the 
loweft  fufpicion,  that  it  did  not  proceed  from  him. 
As  a  rule  of  adion,  the  revelation  communicated  by 
Mofes,  was  as  clear  and  explicit,  as  a  Jew  could  rea- 
fonably  delire.     When  the  heathens  confulted  their 

oracles, 


4.6  THE     CLEARNESS  fSERM.  IV^ 

oracles,  the  anfwer  was  returned  in  dark  and  am- 
biguous terms.  But  Mofes  could  fay,  "  this  com- 
mandment which  I  command  thee  this  day,  it  is  not 
hidden  from  thee,  neither  is  it  far  off.  It  is  not  in 
heaven,  that  thou  fliouldeft  fay,  who  fhall  go  up  for 
us  to  heaven,  and  bring  it  unto  us,  that  we  may  fiear 
it,  and  do  it  ?  Neither  is  it  beyond  the  fea,  that  thou 
fhouldeft  fay,  who  fliall  go  over  the  fea  for  us,  and 
bring  it  unto  us,  that  we  may  hear  it,  and  do  it  ? 
But  the  word  is  very  nigh  unto  thee,  in  thy  mouth, 
and  in  thy  heart,  that  thou  mayeft  do  it." 

In  this  chapter,  the  Jewifli  law-giver  undertakes- 
to  fliow  the  great  advantages  of  unfeigned  repent- 
ance, and  a  thorough  reformation.  He  tells  the  lift- 
ening  multitude,  that  if  at  any  time  difperfed  among 
other  nations  as  a  punifhment  of  their  fins,  a  return 
to  duty  would  procure  a  return  to  their  own  land. 
In  the  moft  afFefting  language,  he  defcribes  the  divine  , 
compaffion  ;  and  he  draws  the  moft  delightful  fccne,  |i 
if  it  fhould  be  their  happinefs  to  feel  the  obligations, 
and  to  difcharge  the  duties  of  religion.  "  The  Lord, 
fays  he,  will  rejoice  over  thee  for  good,  if  thou  flialt 
hearken  unto  his  voice,  to  keep  his  commandments, 
and  his  ftatutes,  which  are  written  in  this  book  of 
the  law  ;  if  thou  turn  unto  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  foul." 

The  words  follow,  which  introduce  the  difcourfe, 
in  which  the  clearnefs  of  the  preceptive  part  of  the  . 
Jewifh  religion  is  ftrongly  afferted.     As  to  their  duty 
to  God  and  man,  Mofes  declares,  that  the  people  of     | 
Ifrael  could  not  plead  that  it  had  been  hidden  from      ' 
them.    They  could  not  reafonably  or  decently  defire, 
that  any  one  fhould  apply  to  heaven  for  new  difcov- 
eries  of  the  divine  will.     It  was  the  pradice  of  the 
gncient  fages  to  vifit  diftant  countries,  in  order  to     i 

gain 


S£RM.  IV.]  OF    REVELATICTN-.-  4^ 

p-ain  religious  information  ;  but  the  people  of  God 
were  not  fubjecled  to  luch  an  inconvenience.  Their 
rule  of  adlion  was  not  beyond  fea ;  but  in  that  facred 
volume  which  was  diftated  by  infpiration,  and  con- 
tinually recited  in  their  ears.  The  fcience  of  religion 
was  brought  home  to  them  :  for  which  reafon,  the 
confcience  of  an  immoral  Jew  would  have  re- 
proached him,  if,  in  any  inftance  v/hcre  duty  was 
concerned,  he  had  prefumed  to  plead  ignorance.  A 
difciple  of  Mofes  might  be  aftoniflied  at  many  things 
recorded  in  his  book.  The  hiftory  of  his  nation 
might  acquaint  him  with  events,  w^hich  were  extra- 
ordinary in  themfelves,  and  myfterious  in  fome  par- 
ticular circumftances.  But  the  point  for  which  I 
contend,  is  this,  that  every  Jew,  of  common  capacity, 
might  know  how  he  ought  to  behave  towards  God 
and  man  ;  and  that  he  had  a  fufficient  fecurity  againft 
all  fatal  errors,  in  that  word  which  was  in  his  mouth, 
and  in  his  heart. 

To  vindicate  the  obfervation  of  Mofes,  as  an  appli- 
cation to  his  own  people,  was  not  however,  my  ob- 
ject in  the  choice  of  this  fubject.  The  words  have 
been  quoted  by  an  infpired  apoftle  ;  and  who  will 
fay,  that  they  are  not  as  defcriptive  of  the  ellentials 
of  the  gofpel,  as  of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  ? 
Can  a  Chriftian  declare,  in  the  uprightnefs  of  his 
heart,  that  to  be  a  good  man,  he  muft  have  a  new 
revelation  of  his  duty  ?  Will  any  one  fay,  "  who 
ihall  afcend  to  heaven,  to  bring  Cnrift  down  from 
above,"  that  he  may  explain  his  own  precepis  ;  and 
fliow  us  what  we  muil  do  to  be  favcd  ?'  Reipecting 
many  things  recorded  in  the  hiftory  of  our  Saviour, 
we  might,  indeed,  be  gratified  with  more  ample  in- 
formation. But  as  to  thofe  things  which  are  honeft, 
pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report  j  thofe  things  which 

rencier 


4^  THE     CLEARNESS  [SeRM.  IV* 

render  this  life  happy,  and  a  future  life  certain  ;  how 
can  they  be  more  clearly  exprefled  than  in  the  facred 
oracles  ?  What  new  light  can  be  thrown  upon  the 
temper,  which  we  ought  to  cultivate  ;  or  the  aclionsj 
which  we  fliould  perform,  in  order  to  be  qualified 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? 

Many  falfe  reafonings  on  this  fubjecl  may  be 
traced  up  to  a  miftaken  application  of  the  word  rev- 
elat'wm  This  term  is  applied  to  that  whole  collection 
of  writings^  of  which  the  facred  volume  is  compofed. 
But  every  thing  contained  in  the  page  of  fcripture  is 
not  a  matter  of  revelation.  Some  of  the  infpired 
books  are  hiftorical  \  others,  devotional ;  others  again, 
prophetic.  In  fome,  we  find  errors  refuted,  and 
vices  reproved  :  in  others,  dodrines  delivered,  and 
duties  prefcribed.  Thus  various  are  the  component 
parts  of  that  volume,  which,  by  way  of  diftind:ion, 
we  call  the  Bible.  In  a  compilation  fo  ancient,  and 
the  materials  of  which  are  fo  diverfe,  may  there  not 
then,  be  fome  obfcure  pafTages,  whilft  it  be  undeniable 
that  every  thing  pertaining  to  life  and  godlinefs  is 
written  as  with  a  fun-beam  ? 

When  we  obferve  the  courfe  of  events  in  this 
world,  we  are  compelled  to  fay  with  the  apofi:le, 
*'  how  unfearchable  are  the  judgments  of  God,  and 
his  ways  paft  finding  out  I'*  Why  then,  fliould  we 
be  difappointed,  if  the  record  of  paft  events  fliould 
not,  in  all  places,  be  level  to  our  underftanding  ?  If 
we  cannot  comprehend  all  things  in  the  book  of  prov- 
idence, can  we  fuppofe  that  a  faithful  tranfcript  of 
that  book  will  be  perfedly  intelligible  ?  Surely,  our 
own  obfervations  on  the  divine  government,  as  far 
as  it  is  exercifed  on  prefent  objefts,  ought  to  prepare 
us  to  encounter  difficulties  in  the  hiftory  of  earlier 
difpenfations. 

BUT^ 


SeRM.  IV.]  OP    REVELATION.  49 

But,  if  obfcurity  might  be  expeded  in  fome  of  the 
hiftorical  books  of  fcripture,  how  much  more  in  the 
prophetick  ?  You  muft  be  fenfible,  that  a  clear  view 
of  futurity  would  unfit  us  for  the  prefent  ftate  of  dif- 
cipline.  The  meafures  employed  by  infinite  wifdom, 
to  prepare  us  for  a  nobler  ftate  of  exiftence,  would 
lofe  their  efficacy,  if  we  could  forefee  every  thing 
which  will  come  to  pafs.  This  being  the  cafe,  we 
have  only  dark  intimations  of  future  events,  in  order 
that  when  they  do  take  place,  we  may  be  impreffed 
with  the  foreknowledge  of  God,  and  convinced  of 
his  over-ruling  providence.  Our  Saviour  has  ftated 
this  point  with  fufEcient  clearnefs.  "  Thefe  things, 
fays  he,  have  I  told  you  before  they  come  to  pafs, 
that  when  they  Hiall  come  to  pafs,  ye  may  know  that 
I  am  he."  From  this  obfervation  of  our  divine  in- 
ftruder,  we  may  infer  the  true  defign  of  prophecy  : 
it  is  not  to  give  us  a  clear  idea  of  things  to  come, 
but  when  prediftions  are  adually  accomplifhed,  to 
confirm  our  faith  in  an  almighty  and  perfedly  wife 
difpofer.  From  the  nature  of  the  thing,  there  muft 
then  be  myfteries  in  the  prophetick  parts  of  the  fcrip* 
ture. 

Nor  is  it  ftrange,  that  letters,  directed  to  particu- 
lar perfons,  and  written  on  particular  occafions, 
fhould,  in  fome  places,  perplex  the  chriftian  reader. 
We  muft  be  perfectly  acquainted  with  all  circum- 
ftances,  in  order  to  underftand  fuch  letters.  Hence 
the  obfcurity  in  many  epiftles  afcribed  to  St.  Paul. 
It  is  a  remark  even  of  a  contemporary  and  fellow- 
apoftle,  that  they  "  contain  things  hard  to  be  under- 
ftood,  v/hich  they  that  are  unlearned  and  unftable, 
wreft,  as  they  do  alfo  the  other  fcriptures,  unto  their 
own  deftrudion."  The  difficulties,  which  the  firft 
Chriftians  experienced,  have  not  decreafed  with  length 
Q  of 


50  THE    CLEAR>7ESS  [SlRM.  Wi 

of  time.  But  many  points  advanced  by  the  great 
apoftle  ;  many  arguments  introduced  into  his  writ-* 
ings  ;  many  reproofs  adminiftered  by  him,  many 
counfels,  and  many  allufions,  are  involved  in  fome^ 
degree  of  obfcurity,  becaufe  we  cannot  go  back  to  his 
age,  and  change  plrxes  with  thofe  to  vrhom  his  epif- 
tles  were  more  immediately  addrefTed. 

But  what  follows  from  this  conccffion,  that  the- 
apoftle  muft  come  down  from  heaven  to  explain  his 
writings  ?   by  no  means.     Notwithftanding  their  par- 
tial obfcurity,  they  are  fuiiiciently  clear  for  all  the 
purpofes  of  our  moral  improvement.     Yes,  even  ad- 
mitting the  obfervation  of  St.~ Peter,  "they  are  pro=' 
iitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  and 
for  inftruclion  in  righteoufnefs."     And  by  a  diligent 
application  to  them,  "  the  man  of  God  will  be  fur- 
nilhed  to  every  good  work."     Articles  in  the  fcrip- 
ture  hiftory  may  be  dark  and  perplexing  ;   predic- 
tions may  be,  in  fome  refpe^ls,  obfcure  ;  the  vifions 
of  the  prophets  may  be  myfterious  in  our  eyes  ;  and] 
even  the  reafonings  of  an  apoftle  may  not,  in  con- 
cerns of  fecondary  importance,  be  brought  down  tOi 
our   perfect    comprehenlion  ;    and  yet  the  way   of  J 
duty  may  be  fo  plain  that  the  moft  fmiple  need  notl 
miftake  it.     We  read  of  fecret  things  which  belong! 
to  God  ;  and  of  things  revealed  for  the  direction  of  j 
man.      Of  the   latter  defcription,  are  the  rules  of| 
good  living  contained  in  the  gofpel.     Tliefe  are  ex- 
prelTed  in  the  plaineft  terms,  and  enforced  by  the 
Itrongeft  motives.     If  the  inquiry  turn  upon  princi- 
ples and  a<5tions,  which  may  be  denominated  eflentials 
of  religion,  the  anfwer  muft  be,  "  the  word  is  nigh 
unto  thee,  in  thy  mouth,  and  in  thy  heart." 

The  character  of  God,  and  that  part  of  our  duty 
which  more  immediately  refpects  him,  how  admira- 
bly 


Serm.  IV.]  OF  revelation;  51 

bly  is  the  one  drawn  in  the  volume  of  revelation,  and 
how  plainly  is  the  other  inculcated  ?  What  can  be 
more  intelligible,  than  the  teftimony  of  Chrift  to  the 
being  and  perfections  of  his  heavenly  father  ?  How 
clearly  do  we  perceive  from  his  difcourfes,  and  thofe 
of  his  apoftles,  that  God  is  infinitely  powerful,  wife, 
and  sfood ;  that  he  is  the  conflant  friend  of  his  crea- 
tures,  and  that  he  rejoices  in  their  happinefs  ?  His 
compaflion  alfo,  how  clearly  is  it  afcertained  ?  And 
as  to  the  efficacy  of  repentance,  and  the  conditions  on 
which  we  may  hope  for  pardon  and  falvation,  is  a 
new  revelation  neceiTary  to  illuftrate  thefe  interefting 
doctrines  ?  It  cannot  indeed  be  denied,  that  if  we 
afpire  to  find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection,  we  mufl 
be  difappointed.  But  if  we  afk  what  God  is,  con- 
fining the  inquiry  to  his  proper  character,  as  our 
maker,  preferver,  governor,  and  judge,  the  facred 
oracles  will  furnifli  a  fatisfactory  anfwer.  He,  who 
has  no  pretenfions  to  any  thing  more  than  common 
fenfe,  may  learn  from  thofe  oracles  his  relation  to 
God,  and  the  duties  refulting  from  that  relation. 
He  may  eafily  perceive,  that  love,  reverence,  grati- 
tude, and  fubmiflion,  are  indifpenfabie.  Without  a 
new  inftructer  from  heaven,  he  will  know  that  he 
ought  to  do  homage  to  his  maker  :  and  that  every 
act  of  worfhip  fliould  be  performed  in  lincerity  and 
truth,  he  will  conclude  without  any  fpecial  illumina- 
tion. The  Chriitian,  who  pofleffes  a  fair  and  honeft 
mind,  will  be  eafily  directed  by  the  word  of  God  to 
the  various  duties  and  offices  of  piety.  He  will  com- 
plain of  no  myftery,  when  taught  to  beltow  his  befl 
affections  on  the  author  of  all  good ;  to  repofe  his 
confidence  on  one  who  can  do  no  wrong  ;  to  exprefs 
his  wants  to  one  who  is  ever  difpofed  to  hear ;  and 

to 


52  THE    CLEARNESS  f  SeRM.  IV, 

to  afcribe  blefling  and  praife  to  one  who  is  poffeffed 
of  every  perfedion. 

Nor  will  he  meet  with  any  difficulty  in  afcertain- 
ing  his  duty  to  his  fellow-men.  Who  does  not  know, 
that  whilft  he  loves  God  with  all  his  heart,  he  muft 
love  his  neighbour  as  himfelf  ?  What  can  be  more 
explicit  than  the  laws  of  Chriftianity,  relative  to  juf- 
tice,  mercy,  fidelity,  the  forgivenefs  of  injuries,  and 
the  exercife  of  benevolence  ?  In  the  common  inters 
courfe  of  life,  and  the  profecution  of  our  lawful  con- 
cerns, can  we  reafonably  aflv  that  Chrift  fhould  de- 
fcend  from  above  to  explain  the  laws  of  truth  and 
equity  ?  Is  not  the  word  nigh  unto  us,  in  our  mouth, 
and  in  our  heart,  "  that  whatfoever  we  would  that 
others  fliould  do  to  us,  we  muft  do  even  fo  to  them  ?" 

There  are,  it  muft  be  confeffed,  many  violations  of 
this  excellent  rule.     In  fociety,  many  falfehoods  are 
uttered  ;  many  hurtful  paffions  are  indulged  ;  many 
wrongs  are  committed  ;  and  much  good  is  withheld 
from  thofe  to  whom  it  is  due.     But  the  falfe,  the  dif*j 
honeft,  and  unfeeling,  cannot  take  refuge  in  the  ob- 
fcurity  of  fcripture.     The  juft  caufe  of  complaint  wiUj 
be  found  not  in  the  facred  volume,  but  in  themfelves, 
A  proteftant,  and  more  efpecially  one,  who  is  capable  j 
of  reading  the  facred  books,  will  have  a  clear  difcern- 
ment  of  all  the  focial  duties.     If,  therefore,  he  be  not 
an  honeft  man,  a  man  of  veracity,  and  a  man  of  be- 
nevolence,  his  underftanding  will  be  lefs   in   fault 
than  his  heart. 

And  equally  clear  is  the  word  of  God  in  regard  to 
thofe  duties,  which  more  immediately  refped  our- 
felves.  Self-government  is  taught  with  the  utmoft 
plainnefs  in  the  gofpel.  Purity,  humility,  temper- 
ance, and  other  virtues,  which  have  lefs  influence  on 
fociety,  than  on  our  own  happinefs,  are  inculcated  in 

terms, 


Serm.IV.]  of  revelation.  53 

terms,  which  need  no  comment :  for  which  reafon, 
an  oifender  muft  ftand  convicted  at  the  bar  of  his 
own  confcience.  Ignorance  he  cannot  plead  ;  be- 
caufe  he  muft  be  convinced  that  flelldy  lulls  war 
againft  the  foul,  and  that  thefe  lulls  are  pointed  out 
in  the  gofpel  as  the  fcandal  of  human  nature  ;  and 
a  juft  ground  of  the  righteous  difpleafure  of  God 
aerainft  the  children  of  difobedience. 

o 

Finally — As  our  duty  in  its  various  branches,  fo 
our  future  deftination,  and  the  condition,  on  which 
we  may  hope  to  be  happy  hereafter,  are  brought  into 
full  view  by  the  Son  of  God.  The  glories  of  our 
Saviour,  which  he  had  with  the  Father  before  the 
world  was,  have,  during  many  centuries,  been  a  fub- 
jecl  of  difpute.  But,  as  to  the  refpecl  and  gratitude 
which  are  due  to  him  ;  as  to  our  obligation  to  copy 
his  temper,  and  to  imitate  his  acT;ions  ;  and  to  look 
for  falvation  through  his  mediation,  there  our  in- 
formation is  ample.  We  have  no  diihculty,  either 
in  comprehending  or  applying  that  great  chriftian 
principle,  namely,  that  we  fhould  forgive  as  he  for- 
gave ;  fliould  do  good  continually,  as  he  did ;  and 
ihould  walk  as  he  walked.  The  doctrine  of  a  refur- 
rec^ion  from  the  grave  is  likewife  as  plain  as  it  is 
momentous.  And  who  can  read  the  chriftian  fcrip- 
tures  without  perceiving,  that  a  day  is  appointed,  in 
which  God  will  judge  the  world  in  righteoufnefs  ; 
and  will  render  to  every  one  as  his  works  have  been  ? 
Can  any  one  entertain  a  -doubt,  that  faith  in  the  re- 
ligion of  Jefus,  repentance,  and  obedience,  will  be  fol- 
lowed with  life  eternal  ?  And,  with  the  facred  pages 
before  him,  can  any  one  flatter  himfelf  with  the 
thought,  that  he  fliall  efcape  the  wrath  to  come,  if 
he  hold  the  truth  in  unrisihteoufnefs  ?  Is  a  ftate  of 
retribution  beyond  the  grave  a  matter  of  conjedure  ? 

So 


54  THE    CLEARNESS,  ^6-.  [SeRM.  IV, 

80  far  from  it,  are  not  life  and  death  fet  before  ns ; 
and  could  we  be  more  convinced  than  we  now  are, 
that  our  habits  and  aftions  v/iil  be  a  fource  of  future 
joy  or  forrow,  even  if  one  were  to  come  down  from 
heaven  to  repubiifh  this  doctrine  ?  Moft  affuredly, 
our  duty  here,  and  our  condition  hereafter,  are  taught 
in  fo  many  parts  of  the  facred  volume,  and  in  terms 
fo  explicit,  that  we  are  abfolutely  without  excufe,  if 
difobedient  to  God,  and  thoughtlefs  of  futurity. 

It  follows  then,  from  the  lubjecl  of  this  difcourfe, 
that  we,  who  enjoy  the  light  of  divine  revelation, 
ought  to  be  unfeignedly  thankful  for  this  ineftim.able 
bleflmg.  What  a  privilege  is  it  to  have  the  things, 
which  belong  to  our  peace,  fet  before  our  eyes  ?  What 
a  fatisfaftion  muft  it  be  to  an  inquilitive  mind,  to 
knovv^  what  the  will  of  God  is" ;  and  what  future  blef- 
fings  are  connected  with  obedience  ?  How  many 
have  dehred  to  fee  the  things  which  we  fee,  and  to 
hear  the  truths  which  we  hear,  but  have  not  been 
gratified  ?  The  word,  as  far  as  our  moral  improve- 
ment and  our  higheft  interefts  are  concerned,  being 
nigh  unto  us,  let  our  hearts  overflow  with  gratitude 
to  the  God  of  heaven  ;  and  let  it  appear  by  our 
actions,  that  we  do  not  undervalue  the  greateft  of  all 
bleJlings. 

The  fubjecl  of  this  difcourfe  is  likewife  an  admo- 
nition to  thofe,  who  complain  of  the  facred  volume 
as  above  their  compreheniion.  One  ferious  queftion 
may  be  propofed,  do  you  obfcrve  thofe  rules,  and 
praclife  thofe  duties,  which  you  profefs  to  under- 
ftand  ?  That  firft  great  commandment,  to  "  love  God 
with  all  your  heart,"  and  the  fecond,  which  is  like  to 
it,  to  "  love  your  neighbour  as  yourfelf,"  do  they 
command  your  obedience  ?  Do  you  fubmit  to  the 
authority  of  Chrift,  where  it  is  indifputable  ?     And 

though 


S£RM.  v.]  CHRIST,  THE    LIGHT^  ^c.  55 

though  it  docs  not  clearly  appear  what  you  fhall  be, 
yet  do  you  now  endeavour  to  be  like  the  Son  of  God, 
that  when  he  fhall  appear,  you  may  appear  with  him 
in  glory  ?  Do  you  follow  the  plain  rules  which  are 
exhibited  in  the  gofpel  ;  as  far  as  you  comprehend 
the  will  of  God,  do  you  endeavour  to  conform  to  it ; 
fo  will  you  know  of  the  doclrine,  whether  it  be  hu- 
man or  divine.  Obedience  v/ill  make  every  thing 
plain  ;  and  you  will  find  your  way  to  heaven,  though 
Chrift  fliould  not  in  perfon  come  down  to  inftruft 
you  ;  and  you  will  be  perfuade^,  though  oihi  fhould 
not  arife  from  the  dead. 


pennon  v. 


Chrift,  the  Light  of  the  World. 


9Syi^(£9QQ 


John  viii.   12. 

"  THEN  SPAKE  JESUS  AGAIN  UNTO  THEM,  SAYING, 
I  AM  THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD  t  HE  THAT 
FOLLOWETH  ME,  SHALL  NOT  WALK  IN  DARK- 
NESS,   BUT    SHALL    HAVE    THE    LIGHT    OF    LIFE.'* 

WHEN  our  Lord  uttered  thefe  words,  he  was 
in  the  temple  ;  and  it  was  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. His  deiign,  in  repairing  to  that  facred  place, 
was  not  merely  to  do  homage  to  his  heavenly  father, 
but  to  difpenfe  inftruftion  to  a  liftening  multitude. 
Accordingly,  when  the  people  had  convened,  he  fat 
down  and  taught  them.     But  icarcely  were  his  lef- 

fon5 


SS  CHRIST,   THE   LIGHT  [SerM.  V* 

fons  begun,  before  they  were  interrupted  by  one  of 
the  inlidious  arts,  to  which  his  enemies  had  recourfe 
to  enfnare  him.  They  brought  to  him  a  woman 
taken  in  adultery,  to  fee  whether  he  would  acquit  or 
condemn  her.  But  he,  with  that  confummate  pru- 
dence, which  marked  his  character,  refufed  to  decide  : 
and  he  difmiffed  the  fubjecl  in  a  manner,  which  con- 
founded his  enemies ;  and  gave  an  abfoiute  defeat  to 
their  v/icked  machinations. 

By  this  time,  we  may  fuppofe,  the  fun  began  to 
appear  ;  and  pouring  in  its  beams  into  the  temple,  it 
fuggefted  to  our  Saviour  the  beautiful  metaphor,  un- 
der which  he  reprcfents  himfelf,  and  his  doclrine. 
*'  I  am  the  light  of  the  world  :  he  that  followeth  me, 
Ihall  not  walk  in  darknefs,  but  fhall  have  the  light  of 
life.'*  How  happy  this  allufion  to  the  orb  of  day,  to 
its  effecls  on  vifible  objects,  and  to  its  fubferviency  to 
the  pleafure  and  convenience  of  man  ?  From  the  fun 
in  the  eaft,  how  natural  the  tranfition  to  the  fun  of 
righteoufnefs  ?  And  whilft  the  former  was  irradiat- 
ing the  temple  with  his  beams,  how  pleafing  the  re- 
fleclion,  that  the  latter  was  adorning  it  with  his  pref- 
ence,  and  difpelling  the  moral  darknefs,  which  had 
overfpread  the  world  !  If  the  hearers  attended  to 
the  circumftances,  which  fuggefted  the  remark,  they 
muft  have  been  delighted  with  its  pertinence. 

But  to  return — "  I  am  the  light  of  the  world  :  he 
that  followeth  me,  Ihall  not  walk  in  darknefs,  but 
fhall  have  the  light  of  life."  My  deiign,  in  this  dif- 
courfe,  is  to  give  thefe  words  a  particular  confidera- 
tion. 

First — Our  Saviour  fpeaks  of  himfelf  as  "  the 
light  of  the  world :"  and  admitting  his  office,  as  a 
religious  inftruder,  we  cannot  but  acknowledge  the 
juflnefs  of  the  figure.    As  a  light  he  was  predicted 

by 


Serm.  v.]  of  the  world.  57 

by  the  ancient  prophets.  And  when  Simeon  took 
the  infant  Saviour  in  his  arms,  he  pronounced  him 
"a  light  to  Hghten  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glory  o£ 
God's  people  Ifrael."  But  why  need  I  multiply  tefti- 
monies,  in  a  cafe,  which  fpeaks  for  itfelf  ?  Our  Lord 
evidently  came,  as  well  to  inftrud,  as  to  die  for  man- 
kind. He  came  to  correal  their  errors,  to  cure  their 
prejudices,  to  redify  their  miftakes,  and  to  make 
them  wife  to  falvation  :  and  the  inftrucT:ions,  which 
he  uttered  when  on  earth,  and  which  he  left  behind, 
when  he  afcended  to  heaven,  are  admirably  fitted  to 
accomplifh  this  end.  They  reveal  to  us  the  charac- 
ter, perfections,  and  government  of  God,  and  his  de- 
lign  in  the  creation  of  moral  intelligent  beings.  They 
difcover  to  us  our  own  character,  our  duty,  and  fu- 
ture deftination.  They  impart  to  us  the  means  and 
conditions  of  our  reconcihation  with  God.  They 
bring  life  and  immortality  to  light  ;  and  they  pre- 
fcribe  a  line  of  conduct,  which  cannot  fail  of  leading 
to  glory  and  happinefs. 

The  divine  leilons  of  our  blelTed  Saviour  being 
thus  inftructive,  how  juftly  is  he  characterized  as  a 
light  ?  V^^ith  what  propriety  is  he  ftyled  the  fun  of 
righteoufnefs  ?  And  how  great  reafon  have  we  to  re- 
joice, v/ho  are  vilited  with  his  beams  ?  When  the 
natural  fun  appears  in  the  eaft,  the  fmailer  lights  be- 
come invifible,  and  even  thofe  of  fuperior  fplendor 
are  loll  in  his  rays.  So  when  the  Son  of  God  came 
into  the  world,  the  prophets,  which  preceded  him, 
were  no  longer  the  glory  of  human  nature  ;  the  dig- 
nity of  their  chara6ter  was  cclipfed  by  the  majefty  of 
his  ;  and  their  inftructions  were  loft  in  the  gofpel. 
When  the  fun  appears,  and  begins  his  celeftial  courfe, 
the  damps  of  night  are  difpelled,  and  the  children  of 
men  rejoice  in  his  prefence.  So  when  the  day-fpring 
H  from 


^  CHRIST,    THE    LIGHT  [SeRM.  "V*. 

from  on  high  dawned  upon  mankind,  their  doubts 
and  fears  were  removed  ;  and  a  ray  of  hope  cheered 
their  difconfolate  ftate.  When  the  fun  appears,  the 
objects  around  us  become  vifible  ;  and  we  are  able  to 
purfue  our  ordinary  bufmefs  or  pleafures.  Alike 
beneficial  is  his  prefence,  who  is  ftyled  the  light  of 
the  world.  It  has  brought  to  view  the  moral  per- 
fedions  of  the  fuprem.e  Jehovah  ;  it  has  difplayed  the 
nature  and  meafures  of  his  government ;  led  us  to  fee 
the  v/orihip,  which  he  expefts  ;  the  duty,  which  he 
requires  ;  the  Saviour,  which  he  has  provided  ;  and 
the  everiafting  bleuings,  wiiich  will  crown  our  obedi- 
ence. Thefe  points  had  long  bev/ildered  the  more 
inquifitive  of  the  human  kind.  But  that  informa- 
tion, which  philofophy  refufed,  is  imparted  by  the 
gofpel.  The  man  of  God  is  now  thoroughly  fur- 
nilhed  unto  every  good  work.  He  knows  the  rela- 
tions, in  which  he  ftands ;  and  the  duties,  which  re- 
fult  from  them.  St.  Paul  faith,  "  \\^hatfoever  doth 
make  manifell  is  light."  Our  Saviour  then,  is  not 
merely  a  true,  but  a  moft  glorious  light,  if  he  has 
manifcftcd  thofe  things,  which  effentially  concern  our 
conduct  here,  and  our  condition  hereafter. 

But  further — He  is  "  the  light  of  the  world"  The 
Jev/3  flattered  themfelves,  that  the  benevolence  of 
God  was  reftricled  to  their  nation.  They  could  not 
conceive,  that  thofe,  who  were  ilrang'ers  to  their  com- 
monwealth, could  have  any  thing  to  hope  from  the 
divine  compallion.  But  our  Saviour  did  not  fuffer 
them  to  labour  under  this  miftake  :  he  let  them 
knovv^,  that  his  inftruclions  would  not  be  confined  to 
the  narrow  limits  of  Judea.  ,  Among  other  intima- 
tions to  that  purpofe,  is  that  in  the  text.  Proclaim- 
ing himfelf  the  light  of  the  world,  he  proclaimed 
glad  tidings  to  all  people.     Whiift  he  mortified  the 

pride 


5erm.  v.]  of  thh  world.  59 

pride  of  the  JeWs,  he  revived  the  hopes  of  the  Gen- 
tiles:  and  after  his  refurreclion,  thofe  hopes  were 
verified  by  the  pious  labours  of  the  apoflles.  They 
went  out  into  all  the  world,  and  preached  the  gofpel 
to  every  creature.  There  was  no  fpeech  or  language, 
where  their  voice  was  not  heard.  Confidering  then, 
the  communications  of  divine  knowledge,  which 
were  made  by  Jefus  Chrift  in  perfon,  or  by  thofe  who 
were  commiffioned  by  him,  we  muft  regard  him  as 
the  light  of  the  world.  As  all  parts  of  the  earth  are, 
in  turn,  irradiated  by  the  natural  fun,  fo  v.'^ere  all  na- 
tions in  fucceflion  illuminated  by  the  gofpel. 

But  from  the  terms,  in  which  the  Son  of  God 
charad:erizes  himfelf,  I  proceed,  fecondly,  to  the  fol- 
emn  truth,  which  our  Lord  had  a  more  particular 
view  to  inculcate  :  and  that  is,  that  whofoever  fhould 
"  follow  him  would  not  walk  in  darknefs."  To  fol- 
low Chrift,  is,  in  plain  language,  to  be  a  Chriftian, 
It  is,  to  yield  an  unfeigned  affent  to  the  religion  of 
our  heavenly  mafter  ;  to  believe  his  doctrines  with 
our  whole  hearts  ;  and  to  believe  on  rational  grounds. 
It  is,  moreover,  to  make  a  public  profeffion  of  our 
faith.  It  likewife  implies  the  imitation  of  his  exam- 
ple ;  and  the  moft  earneft  endeavours  to  walk  con- 
formably to  the  gofpel.  Lefs  than  this  cannot  con- 
flitute  a  follower  of  Jefus  Chrifl:.  If  we  examine 
how  this  term  is  generally  ufed  in  the  facred  pages, 
we  fhall  not  difapprove  of  this  conftruclion. 

To  "  walk  in  darknefs"  mull  intend,  to  be  in  a 
ftate  of  ignorance,  error,  and  wdckednefs  ;  to  be  dif- 
trefied  with  doubts  and  fears  ;  to  be  in  that  uncom- 
fortable ftate,  which  arifes  from  a  fenfe  of  guilt,  and 
the  alarming  apprehenlion  of  its  future  confequences. 
This  was  the  miferable  condition  of  many,  before  the 
publication  of  the  gofpel.     And  if  they  allov/ed  them- 

felves 


66  CHRIST,    THE    LIGHT  [[SeRM.  V, 

felves  to  refleft,  it  would  be  the  portion  of  all,  who, 
whilft  they  own  the  gofpel  in  words,  difown  it  by 
their  behaviour.  Perfons  who  offer  fuch  violence  to 
reafon,  confcience,  and  revelation,  muft  walk  in  dark- 
nefs,  unlefs  they  are  abfolutely  paft  reflection. 

It  is  true,  fome  good  men  have  difcouraging  mo- 
ments. Though  followers  of  Jefus  Chrift,  they  do 
not  have  all  the  comforts,  which  his  religion  is  cal- 
culated to  impart.  Their  profpeds  are  fometimes 
bright,  at  other  times  clouded.  Sometimes,  their 
hopes,  at  other  times,  their  fears,  prevail.  Now,  the 
doors  of  heaven  appear  to  be  unfolded  to  them  ;  and 
now,  forever  clofed.  Such  is  the  melancholy  ilate  of 
fome,  to  whom  we  fhould  do  great  injuftice,  did  we 
not  acknowledge  the  fincerity  of  their  religious  pro- 
feflions,  and  the  excellency  of  their  chriftian  charader. 

But  what  general  obfervation  has  not  its  excep- 
tions ?  The  ways  of  wifdom  are  generally  ways  of 
pleafantnefs  ;  yet  there  are  extraordinary  times,  when 
7L  man's  religion  may  prove  his  temporal  ruin.  In- 
nocence and  meeknefs  are  a  probable  fecurity  againft 
wrong  ;  yet  there  are  times,  when  they  may  invite 
it.  Godhnefs  is  faid  to  have  the  promife  of  the  life 
which  now  is  ;  yet  it  may  fo  happen,  that  of  all 
men  the  Chriftian  may  be  moft  miferable.  But  ex- 
traordinary cafes  do  not  invalidate  a  general  obferva- 
tion. Though,  in  times  of  perfecution,  a  Chriftian 
may  fuifer  for  his  religion  ;  yet  it  will  generally  be 
a  fource  of  enjoyment.  And  though  a  follower  of 
Jefus  Chrift  may  not  walk  in  perfed  light ;  yet  the 
exceptions  to  the  obfervation  in  the  text  will  be  com- 
paratively few.  Generally  fpeaking,  "  light  is  fown 
for  the  righteous  ;  and  gladnefs  for  the  upright  in 
heart.'* 

And  where  the  comforts  of  religion  do  not  follow 

its 


SeRM.  V.3  ■     OF    THE    WORLD.  6 1 

its  moral  influence,  it  is  eafy  to  account  for  the  facl. 
The  gloom,  which  overfpreads  the  mind  of  a  Chrif- 
tian,  may  be  traced  up  to  a  very  natural  caufe. 
Sometimes,  it  arifes  from  errors  incorporated  with 
the  truths  of  the  gofpel  ;  at  other  times,  it  may  be 
afcribed  to  habit  of  body,  and  conftitutional  infirm- 
ity. We  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  ;  and 
it  is  very  conceivable,  that  the  peculiar  ftate  of  the 
body  may  brighten  or  obfcure  our  futtire  profpecls. 
But  where  this  caufe  does  not  operate,  wrong  ideas 
of  religion,  and  fuperftitious  errors  mingled  with  it, 
will  fufficiently  account  for  the  doubts  and  fears, 
which  fometimes  exercife  the  Chriftian. 

Having  ftated  this  exception,  I  now  return  to  the 
I  words  of  our  bleffed  Saviour  :    "  He  that  followeth 
I  me,  iliali  not  walk  in  darknefs.'*      A  iincere  and  ra- 
j  tional  Chriftian  will  probably  find  the  higheft  fatisfacr 
I  tion  in  the  part,  which  he  has  chofen.     If  a  ftate  of 
lin,  of  doubts,  of  ignorance,  of  error,  of  fear,  of  re- 
morfe,  be  a  ftate  of  darknefs,  he  will  be  far  removed 
from  that  forlorn  ftate.     Moft  certainly,  he  will  not 
walk  in  the  darknefs  of  fin.     This  is  implied  in  the 
very  definition  of  a  Chriftian.     To  be  a  Chriftian  is 
to  be  a  pattern  of  piety,  and  an  example  of  evangel- 
ical obedience.     It  would  therefore,  be  a  lofs  of  time, 
to  labour  the  point,  that  darknefs,  if,  by  this  word, 
we  underftand  moral  evil,  v/ill  not  obfcure  his  path, 
whom  the  Son  of  God  v/ould  own  to  be  a  difciple 
and  follower.     So  far  from  it,  as  the  wife  man  has 
obferved,  "  the  path  of  the  juft,  like  the  iliining  light, 
fliines  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.'* 

Again — TJie  follower  of  Jefus  Chrift  will  not  walk 
in  the  darknefs  of  ignorance  and  error.  This  is  the 
darknefs,  v/hich  overfpread  the  heathen  world,  at  the 
time  of  our  Lord's  appearance.     And  in  this  darknefs 

a  great 


CH  CHRIST,    THE    LIGHT  ^SeRM.  V. 

a  great  part  of  the  Iraman  kind  are  Hill  involved. 
But  he,  who  underftands  and  afl'ents  to  the  gofpel,  is 
refcued  from  this  uncomfortable  ftate.  The  great 
concerns  of  futurity  are  difclofed  to  him  ;  and  his 
duty,  in  all  its  more  important  branches,  is  fufficiently 
explained.  Had  we  not  been  divinely  inftrucled,  we 
fliould  have  been  without  God,  and  without  hope. 
We  fhould  have  been  ignorant  of  the  being  who 
formed  us,  of  the  homage  due  to  him,  and  of  the 
end,  for  which  we  were  brought  into  exiftence.  We 
fhould  probably  have  fallen  into  the  groffeft  miftakes,] 
refpefting  the  line  of  conduct  becoming  our  chara( 
ter  ;  and  all  the  idle  and  abfurd  fictions  of  heathen- 
ifm  would  have  formed  our  religious  creed.  I  hav< 
no  reafon  to  conclude  that  our  opinions  would  hav« 
been  wifer,  our  errors  fewer,  or  our  pradices  better," 
than  thofe  of  other  perfons,  to  whom  providence  has 
denied  the  benefit  of  the  gofpel. 

How  certain  then,  is  it,  that  the  rational  Chriftian 
is  not  in  darknefs !  His  information,  fo  far  as  refpecls 
his  duty,  is  adequate  to  ail  the  purpofes  of  life  and 
godlinefs.  He  is  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  God  ; 
has  clear  intimations  of  a  future  ftate,  and  has  learned 
upon  what  terms  its  bleilednefs  may  be  fecured.  His 
errors  will  not  be  of  fuch  a  nature,  as  to  endanger  his 
future  well-being.  Knowing  the  God,  who  made 
liim  ;  the  rules  prefcribed  him  ;  the  happinefs  pro- 
vided for  him  ;  and  the  meafures  in  operation  to 
bring  him  to  glory,  he  may  be  juftly  denominated  a 
child  of  light,  and  of  the  day. 

To  proceed-' — If  by  darknefs  we  underftand  doubts 
and  fears,  the  rational  Chriftian  is  not  involved  in 
that  darknefs.  The  gofpel  has  cleared  up  all  his  dif- 
ficulties refpecting  a  great  firft  caufe,  the  perfections, 
and  more  efpecially,  the  be-nevolence  of  his  nature, 

his 


Serm.  VJ  of  the   world.  6j 

his  compaffion  towards  the  miferable,  and  mercy  to 
the  penitent,  the  confequences  of  death,  and  the  fu- 
ture condition  of  the  virtuous.  Such  an  enlightened 
follower  of  the  bleffed  Jefus  has  no  doubt  of  a  refur- 
redion  from  the  grave,  and  a  glorious  immortality. 
He  has  no  fearful  apprehenfions  of  the  divine  dif- 
pleafure,  if  penitent  and  obedient.  He  does  not  def- 
pair  of  the  final  approbation  of  his  judge,  becaufe  his 
works  have  not  hitherto  been  perfect.  But  con* 
vinced  of  the  divine  complacency,  he  trufts,  that  he, 
who  made  him,  will  have  mercy  on  him.  With 
thefc  honourable  ideas  of  God,  he  is  led  to  love  him 
fupreniely.  And  in  him  is  verified  that  obfervation 
of  the  apofi:le,  that  "  perfed  love  cafteth  out  fear.'* 
Finally — ^^rhe  Chrifi:ian  fhall  not  walk  in  dark- 
nefs,  if  by  that  exprefiion  we  underfi:and  a  fiiate  of 
remorfe.  In  following  the  Saviour,  a  good  life  is 
neceflarily  included-  But  what  reafon  has  he  to  re^ 
proach  himfelf,  whofe  converfation  is  according  to 
the  gofpel  ?  No  man,  it  is  true,  has  fo  conduced,  as 
to  review  his  behaviour  with  entire  approbation. 
But  there  is  a  vafl  diftance  between  the  remembrance 
of  pafi:  follies,  and  the  confcioufnefs  of  prefent  guilt. 
That  regret,  which  arifes  from  the  former,  may  abate 
our  joys,  but  cannot  deprive  us  of  the  comforts  of 
religion.  The  alTurance,  that  if  we  repent  of  our 
fins,  God  is  faithful  and  jufl:  to  forgive  us  our  fins, 
will  fupport  us  under  thofe  reflections,  which  will 
fom.etimes  find  their  way  to  our  minds.  But  remorfe 
is  mifery  in  the  extreme.  The  fpirit  of  a  man  may 
fuftain  him  under  the  remembrance  of  infirmities, 
for  which  he  has  humbled  himfelf  before  God  ;  but 
the  fcourges  of  an  unapproving  confcience,  who  can 
bear  ?  If  any  human  being  may  be  reprefented  as  in- 
volved in  thick  darknefs,  it  is  he  who  feels  thefe  fel£- 

reproaches. 


64  Christ,  the  light*  [Serm.  -Vj 

reproaches.  In  his  view,  the  i3jn  has  no  fplendor  ; 
and  nature  difplays  no  charms.  There  is  no  flavour 
in  his  wine,  nor  does  it  give  cheerfulnefs  to  his  heart. 
He  goes  about  feeking  reft,  and  finding  none.  When 
he  fays,  "  my  bed  fliall  comfort  me,  my  couch  fliall 
eafe  my  complaint  ;'*  then  can  he  adopt  the  com- 
plaint of  Job  :  "  Thou  fcareft  me  with  dreams,  and 
terrificft  rne  with  vifions  ;  fo  that  my  foul  choofeth 
ftrangling,  and  death  rather  than  life."  So  dark  and 
difconfolate  is  his  condition,  who  is  at  variance  with 
his  confcience,  and  who  feels  the  keen  reproaches  of 
that  monitor.  But  the  follower  of  Jefus  Chrift  is  a 
ftranger  to  thefe  miferies,  as  he  is  a  ftranger  to  the 
vices  from  which  they  proceed.  It  is  his  privilege 
to  be  delivered  from  darknefs,  and  to  enjoy  the  light 
of  life. 

By  this  mode  of  exprefiion,  we  are  to  underftand 
the  higheft  degree  of  enjoyment,  of  which  the  prefent 
life  is  capable.  The  man  of  religion  will  find  the 
good  part,  which  he  has  chofen,  a  fource  of  exquifite 
pleafure.  He  will  not  only  be  free  from  doubts  and 
fears,  from  ignorance  and  miflakes,  from  the  accufa- 
tions  of  confcience,  and  the  apprehenfions  of  future 
mifery,  but  he  will  be  pofitively  happy.  He  will 
walk  in  the  light ;  his  path  before  him  will  be  plain  ; 
and  it  will  conduct  him  to  that  celeftial  abode,  which 
the  prophet  has  defcribed  in  thefe  beautiful  ftrains  : 
"  And  there  fhall  be  no  night  there  ;  and  they  need 
no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  fun  ;  for  the  Lord 
God  giveth  them  light,  and  they  ihaU  reign  forever 
and  ever." 

The  fubjeft  of  this  difcourfe  reminds  us  of  our 
privileges  as  Cliriftians  ;  and  leads  us  to  reflect  with 
gratitude  on  that  goodr.efs  which  has  fo  diftinguilhed 
us^  from  others  of  the  human  kind.     How  highly  arej 

wcj 


Serm.  v.]  of  the  world,  6^ 

we  favoured,  to  have  the  beft  inftru6lIons  and  beft 
example,  the  beft  motives,  and  the  nobleft  encour- 
agements to  love  and  obey  our  maker  ?  What  a 
privilege  to  be  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  true 
God  ?  What  a  happinefs  to  knov/  that  death  is  not 
deftruclion,  that  the  grave  is  the  place  of  cur  repofe, 
and  not  our  eternal  home  ;  that  v/e  fliall  rife  again 
at  the  laft  day,  and  that  pleafures,  which  exceed  all 
defcription,  will  reward  our  obedience  ?  What  a  An- 
gular favour  to  be  apprized  of  the  charafter  and  of- 
fice of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  the  great  falyation  purchafed 
by  his  blood  !  It  may,  it  ought  to  be  our  language, 
"  Bleffed  are  our  eyes,  for  they  fee  ;  and  our  ears, 
for  they  hear."  FoV  it  is  a  fad,  that  kings  and 
prophets  defired  the  inftruclions  and  difcoveries  of 
our  religion,  but  delired  them  in  vain.  The  myftery 
hid  from  them  is  nov/  revealed  to  us.  And  we  have 
I  a  clear  view  of  thofe  things,  which,  to  the  wife  and 
i  prudent  of  form.er  times,  v/ere  fubjefts  of  mere  con- 
jeclure. 

And  ought  not  fuch  fplrituai  bleflings  to  excitd 
our  utmoft  gratitude  to  their  author  ?  Ought  we 
not  to  prize  them  above  every  earthly  good  ?  Ought 
they  not  to  employ  our  private  meditation,  and  pub- 
lic praifes  ?  When  we  attempt  to  review  the  many 
favours  beftowed  upon  us  by  our  munificent  benefac- 
tor, ought  we  not  to  dwell  with  fupreme  pieafure  on 
that  gofpel,  which  has  baniflied  our  doubts,  revived 
our  hopes,  difpelled  our  ignorance,  rectified  our  mif- 
takes,  and  poured  in  fuch  divine  light  on  the  hum.an 
mind  ?  Surely,  our  gratitude  fliould  be  in  propor- 
tion to  the  benefit  received  ;  and  if  fo,  our  thankful 
acknowledgments  vvill  be  daily  rendered  to  him,  who 
hath  called  us  from  darkncfs  to  his  marvellous  light. 
But  to  reap  the  future  benefits  of  this  difpcnfation, 
*  I  fomcthing 


66  CHRIST,    THE    LIGHT,   ^c.  []SeRM.  V, 

fomething  more  is  neceffary,  than  mere  expreflions  o£ 
gratitude.  To  obtain  the  light  of  life^  we  muft  walk 
as  children  of  the  light,  and  have  no  concern  with 
the  unprofitable  works  of  darknefs.  Aclions,  which 
would  be  cxcufed  in  a  heathen,  will  not  be  pardoned 
in  us.  Having  the  clearell  rcprcfentation  of  our 
duty,  and  the  ftrongeft  motives  to  pradife  it,  our 
immoralities  will  fubjedt  us  to  the  utmoft  difpleafure 
of  the  great  God.  In  the  decifions  of  a  future  day, 
our  advantages  and  improvements  will  be  righteoufly 
compared  ;  and  if  it  fiiall  then  appear,  that  we  have 
offended  againft  the  clearefl:  light,  wc  Ihall  be  beaten 
with  many  ftripes. 

To  avert  the  divine  rcfentii!cnt,  kt  us-  therefore 
render  that  return,  which  our  privileges  require.  In 
point  of  religious  advantages,  we  are  raifed  up  to 
heaven.  Then  let  our  virtues  expJt  our  character  ; 
and  qualify  us  for  the  happinefs  of  that  bleffed  abode. 
If  we  are  followers  c^f  Jefus  Chrift,  this  end  will  be 
fecured.  A  life  conformable  to  his  gofpel,  the  culti- 
vation of  his  temper,  and  the  imitation  of  his  exam- 
ple, cannot  fail  to  render  us  happy.  If  we  thus  re- 
lemble  the  author  of  our  falvation,  no  darknefs  will 
bewilder  our  fiieps,  or  cloud  our  profpefts.  In  time 
of  trouble,  we  fliaE  have  a  fupport,  which  the  world 
knows  not  of.  Amid  confufionjWe  fliall  have  the  peace 
of  God,  which  palTeth  all  underftanding.  A  ray  of 
light  will  cheer  the  valley  of  the  Ihadow  of  death  j  i 
and  when  our  exalted  Redcem.er  fliall  revilit  this 
world,  he  will  conducl  us  to  a  city,  which  will  have 
no  need  of  the  fun,  neither  of  the  moon,  to  Ihine  into 
it :  inafmuch  as  the  glory  of  God  will  lighten  it, 
ind  the  Lamb  will  be  the  light  thereof. 


SeRM.  VI.l  THE    NATURl    Of    FAITH.  6y 


)tm\on  VI. 


BleiTednefs  of  thofe,  who  have   not  feen, 
and  vet  have  believed. 

John  xx.  29. 

*'  BLESSED    ARE    THEY     THAT    HAVE    NOT    SEEN,    AN» 
YET    HAVE    BELIEVED.'' 

THE  occafion  of  thefe  words  was  the  increduKty 
of  the  apoftle  Thomas,  when  firft  informed  of 
the  refurreclion  of  his  Lord.  Being  abfent,  when 
Chrift  made  his  appearance  to  the  other  difciples,  he 
knew  not  that  he  had  rifen  again,  till  they  alTured 
him,  they  were  eye-witnelTes  of  the  fad.  But,  how- 
ever good  he  might  efteem  their  authority  in  other 
cafes  ;  in  the  prefent,  Thomas  did  not  think  it  a  fuf- 
ficient  ground  for  his  faith.  The  refurredion  of 
Jefus  was  a  point  of  too  much  importance,  to  believe 
even  upon  tbeir  report.  To  remove  all  doubts,  and 
give  entire  fatisfadion  to  bis  mind,  he  muft  have  the 
evidence  of  his  own  fenfes.  Accordingly,  he  replied-, 
''  Except  I  ihall  fee  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails, 
and  put  my  finger  into  it,  and  thruft  my  hand  into 
his  fide,  I  will  not  believe.'* 

This  was  a  very  unreafonable  demand  ;  and  to 
punifli  him  for  it,  our  Lord  might  juftly  have  left  him 
in  that  perplexity  of  mind,  which  his  incredulity 
muft  have  occafioned.  But  in  condefcenfion  to  his 
weaknefs,  and  to  anfwer  other  wife  purpofes,  he  ap- 
peared again  to  the  difciples  ;  and  took  an  oppor- 
tunity to  do  it,  when  Thomas  was  prefent.  Throw- 
ing 


.^8  THE    NATURE  [SeRM,  VL 

ing  open  the  doors,  in  a  fudden  and  unexpeded  man- 
ner, and  ihutting  them  in  a  moment,  "  Jefus  ftood  in 
the  midft,  and  faid,  peace  be  unto  you."  Then  turn- 
ing to  Thomas,  he  faid,  "  Reach  hither  thy  finger, 
and  behold  my  hands  ;  and  reach  hither  thy  hand, 
and  thruft  it  into  my  fide,  and  be  not  faithlefs,  but 
beheving."  Overcom.e  by  the  condefcenfion  of  his 
Lord,  and  the  ocular  demonftration  he  now  had  of 
his  refurrection,  he  brake  forth  in  a  tranfport  of  joy 
and  aftoniftiment,  "  My  Lord,  and  my  God."  "  Jefus 
faith  unto  him,  Thomas,  bec9.ufe  thou  haft  feen,  thou 
haft  beheved  :  bk[fed  are  ihcy  that  ha^ve  not  feen  ^  and  ye 
have  believed.''*  Upon  thefe  words,  an  ingenious  ^ 
commentator  makes  this  remark  :  "  If  it  be  queried,] 
why  a  greater  bleflednefs  is  pronounced  on  thofe,- 
who  beUeve  on  more  flender  evidence,  it  may  be  anr 
fwered,  that  our  Lord  by  no  means  intended  to  af- 
fert,  that  every  one,  who  believes  without  feeing,  is 
happier  than  any  one  believing  on  fight  ;  for  theij. 
the  meaneft  Chriftian  now  would  be  more  happy 
than  the  greateft  apoftle  :  but  only,  that  where  the 
effefts  of  that  faith  were  equal,  it  argued  greater  iim- 
plicity,  candor,  2.nd  wifdom,  to  yield  to  evidence 
without  feeing,  than  could  be  argued  merely  from 
having  believed  on  fight,  after  fufficient  evidence  of 
another  kind  had  been  propofed.  It  was  therefore^ 
in  effect,  telling  Thomas,  "  It  would  have  been  more 
acceptable  to  him,  if  he  had  not  ftood  out  fo  long. 
And  it  was  doing  it  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  would  be 
jnoft  calculated  for  the  comfort  and  encouragement 
of  believers  in  future  ages,  to  whom,  in  many  of  his 
fpeeches  to  the  apoftles  themfelves,  our  Lord  expreile^ 
a  moft  obliging  and  alfeclionate  regard." 

This  comment,  and  indeed  the  whole  ftory  oi 
Thomas,  fliew  how  greatly  thefe  words  of  our  blefled 

*  Dr.  Doddridge.  Saviour 


Serm.VI.]  of  faith,  6j 

Saviour  have  been  mirunderftood.  I  need  not  in- 
form you,  that  they  have  often  been  preiled  into  the 
fervice  of  religious  tyranny  ;  and  been  produced  to 
countenance  and  fupport  the  worft  extravagances  of 
enthufiaftic  folly.  I  need  not  infift  upon  the  many 
ftrange,  unaccountable  doclrines,  v/hich  have  been 
buiit  upon  them.  The  religious  hiftory  of  mankind 
will  ihow,  that  they  have  been  the  means  of  fetting 
reafon  and  faith  at  variance  v/ith  each  other  ;  and 
that  artful  men  have  availed  themfelvcs  of  them,  in 
order  to  humble  common  fenfe,  and  fubdue  a  fpirit 
of  free  inquiry.  But  how  unjuftly  they  have  been 
p^oftituted  to  thefe  purpofes,  if  not  apparent  from 
their  connexion,  and  the  obfervations  already  made, 
yet,  I  truft,  vi'ill  fufficiently  appear  from  farther  ex- 
amination. To  illuilrate  their  meaning,  and  improve 
it,  fhall  be  the  bulinefs  of  this  difcourfc. 

And  firft — -I  v^'ould  obferve,  it  was  not  the  inten- 
tion of  our  Saviour  to  depreciate  that  faith,  which 
was  built  on  feniible  evidence,  or  abfolutely  to  deny 
the  merit  of  it.  The  apoilles  and  primitive  Chrif- 
tians  believed  on  the  Son  of  God,  in  confcquenc^  of 
what  they  faw  with  their  eyes,  heard  with  their  ears, 
and  their  hands  handled.  They  had  ocular  demon- 
ftration  of  his  divine  power  and  authority.  Tlicy 
faw  him  heal  the  fick,  reflore  the  weak,  open  the  eyes 
of  the  blind,  unlock  the  deaf  ear,  caft  out  devils, 
raife  the  dead,  and  do  many  wonderful  works.  They, 
who  attended  on  his  perfon,  were  eye-witneiles  of 
thefe  things  ;  and  fhall  we  fay  there  v/as  no  merit  in 
their  faith  ?  Did  it  refiecl  no  honour  upon  their 
character,  that  they  were  open  to  conviction  ;  that 
they  rejected  the  prejudices  of  education,  and  em- 
braced the  gofpel,  becaufe  they  faw  it  confirmed  by 
^gns  and  wonders,  and  gifts  of  the  holy  fpirit  ?   Was 

a  belief 


70  TH£   NATURE  ^SeRM.  VI. 

a  belief  grounded  upon  fuch  evidence,  no  mark  either 
of  wifdom,  fimplicity,  or  candor  ?  Certainly  we  can- 
not fuppofe  any  fuch  thing,  if  we  confider  the  nature 
of  evidence,  and  the  peculiar  circumftances  of  thofe 
firft  Chriftians.  it  is  true,  they  heard  with  their 
ears  the  heavenly  difcourfes  of  our  divine  Lord  :  it 
is  equally  true,  they  faw  with  their  eyes  the  miracles, 
wonders  and  figns,  which  God  almighty  did  by  him, 
for  the  conviction  of  his  people  :  and  it  is  no  lefs  cer- 
tain, that  their  hands  handled  the  word  of  life  :  ftill 
their  faith  was  not  the  effect  of  abfolute  necefTity  ; 
nor  was  convidion  fo  poured  in  upon  their  minds, 
that  they  could  not  poflibly  refill  it.  Others  faw  the 
wonders  which  Chrift  performed,  without  being  con- 
vinced of  his  divine  character.  Some  who  were 
prefent,  when  he  raifed  Lazarus  from  the  dead,  did 
not  believe  on  him,  but  went  away  and  accufed  him 
to  the  pharifees,  And  it  is  particularly  mentioned, 
\vhen  thefe  proud  hypocrites  faw  a  man  whom  Jefus 
had  reftored  to  fight,  infteud  of  revering  his  author- 
ity, and  admitting  his  pretenfions  as  the  true  Meffiah, 
they  only  took  occallon  to  infult  him.  In  believing, 
however  fome  ir.ay  reprefent  it,  the  mind  is  not  en- 
tirely pafiive.  Our  paflions,  our  prejudices,  our  pri- 
vate intereft,  may  have  a  great  influence  over  our 
faith.  If  a  truth  be  propofed  to  us,  which  is  perfe(5tly 
agreeable  to  our  wifhes,  we  can  believe  it  upon  the 
flighteft  evidence  :  and  we  can  reject  a  difagreeable 
truth  upon  evidence,  that  is  much  ftronger.  Hence 
the  infidelity  of  the  pharifees,  and  many  other  Jews, 
notwithltanding  Jefus  Chrift  did  among  them  fuch 
works,  as  none  other  man  ever  did,  or  could  do,  un- 
lefs  God  were  with  him.  They  were  unconvinced, 
becaufe  thev  did  not  choofe  to  believe  on  the  Son  of 
pod.     They  were  jealous  of  his  growing  fame  ;  they 

perceived 


Serm.  VI.]  or  FAITH.  71 

perceived  his  religion  would  be  fatal  to  their  influence 
and  popularity  ;  and  therefore  they  pronounced  him 
an  impoftor,  though  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God 
with  power.     Pride,  avarice,  and  ambition  interpofed 
between  them  and  the  truth  ;  obfcured  the  evidence 
with  which  it  was  attended  ;   depraved  their  hearts  ; 
darkened  their  underftandings,  and  Winded  them  to 
all  miraculous  exertions  ;   the  mofl  rational,  and  the 
only  means,  which  infmite  wifdom  could  employ  for 
their  conviftion  1 
1      Not  fo  the  humble  followers  of  the  blefled  Jefus. 
!  They  believed  him  to  be  the  appointed  Saviour  o£ 
:  the  world,  becaufe  of  the  wonders  which  he  per- 
I  formed.      They  concluded,  no  man  could  do  fuch 
j  miracles,  unlefs  God  was  with  him  ;  therefore  they 
I  profeffed  themfelves  his  followers,  and  embraced  his 
!  religion  :    they  cheerfully  facrificed  the  prejudices  of 
I  their  education  ;    with   candor   they  liftened  to  his 
I  heavenly  difcourfes  ;  they  received  the  truth  in  the 
■  love  of  it  •,  and  notwithftanding  the  calamities  it  ex- 
I  pofed  them  to,  they  made  it  the  bufinefs  of  their  lives 
to  fpread  this  truth  over  the  whole  world  ;  and  they 
actually  died  in  atteftation  of  it.     And  is  there  no 
dignity  in  fuch  condud,  no  value  in  that  principle  of 
faith  by  which  it  was  infpired  ?     Does  the  flrength 
of  evidence  deftroy  the  merit  of  their  believing  ?  And 
are  they  lefs  bleffed,  merely  from  this  circumftance, 
that  the  proofs  of  our  Lord's  miffion  were  objects  of 
their  light  ?    by  no  means.     The  apoftles  and  prim- 
itive Chriftians  aded  a  noble  part,  in  yielding  to  that 
evidence,  which  was  offered  to  them.     Their  faith 
will  be  a  fwift  witnefs  againfl  the  unbelieving  Jevv^s, 
and  a  lafting  monument  of  their  own  limplicity  and 
candor. 

Again 


J2  THE    NATURE  [SeRM.  VI. 

Again,  fccondly — When  our  Lord  fiiys,  hicjpd 
ere  they  that  haije  7iot  fecn^  and  yet  have  believed^  he  does 
not  mean  that  our  faith  flionld  be  witliout  any  ra- 
tlohal  foundation.  I  mention  this,  becaufe  fome  en- 
thuliafts  would  draw  this  conclufion  from  the  words 
of  the  text.  And  indeed,  extravagant  as  this  opin- 
ion may  Ke,  it  has  the  countenance  of  fome  very  an- 
cient fathers  of  tlic  church,  and  others,  who  adOrn 
religion  by  their  lives,  Iiov/ever  they  may  injure  it 
by  their  fentiments.  But  furely,  if  we  give  the  mat- 
ter a  ferious  examination,  we  lliall  perceive  that 
nothing  could  be  more  abfurd  and  prepoflerous,  than 
to  pretend  to  believe  a  doftrine,  for  which  we  have 
no  kind  of  evidence.  God  never  exaded  fuch  a 
faith  from  any  of  his  rational  creatures  :  he  always 
treats  us  as  moral  intelligent  beings  ;  beings,  whom 
his  own  infpiration  hath  endued  with  underftanding, 
and  who  muft  have  fome  rational  ground  of  convic- 
tion, before  they  can  believe.  Accordingly,  when 
his  own  Son  came  into  the  world,  he  exhibited  the 
moft  convincing  proofs  of  his  divinity  and  mifllon, 
before  he  demanded  an  unfeigned  affent  to  theni.  He 
wrought  many  wonderful  works,  and  to  them  he 
conftantly  appealed  as  a  rational  evidence,  that  he  was 
the  promifed  Melliah.  When  John  fent  his  difciples 
to  Jefus  with  this  queftion,  "  Art  thou  he  that  fliould 
come,  or  do  we  look  for  another  ?'*  he  did  not  give 
a  poiitive  anfwer,  and  demand  his  affent,  without 
uling  any  arguments  for  his  conviclion  ;  but  he  re- 
plied, "  Go  and  Ihew  John  thofe  things,  which  ye  do 
hear  and  fee.  The  blind  receive  their  fight,  and  the 
lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleanfed,  and  the  deaf  hear, 
the  dead  are  raifed  up,  and  the  poor  have  the  gofpel 
preached  to  them."  This  was  treating  the  baptift 
like  a  reafonable  creature.     He  was  hrft  informed  of 

the 


SeRM.  VI.J  OF     FAITH.  73 

i  the  works  of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  then  left  to  draw  his 
;  own  conclufion,  refpecling  his  divine  charafter. 
I     And  thus  our  bleffed  Saviour  condudled  towards  all, 
i  with  whom  he  converfed  when  on  earth  j  and  whom 
he  invited  to  become  his  difciples.     He  proved  him- 
jfelf  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with  power,  before  he  com- 
manded them  to  believe  on  his  name.    Had  he  treated 
them  in  a  different  manner,  or  infilled  upon  their 
faith,  without  affording  any  evidence  of  his  miffion, 
it  would  have  been  an  infult  to  their  underftandings, 
and  a  grofs  impofition  on  their  credulity  !    And  had 
Ithey  believed  on  no  other  foundation  than  his  own 
junconditional  command,  their  faith  would  have  done 
no  honour  to  their  judgment  or  their  hearts.     It  is 
the  duty  of  every  man,  and  particularly  fo  of  every 
iChriilian,  to  be  able  to  give  fome  reafon  for  the  faith, 
which  is  in  him.     If  alked,  why  he  believes  the  gof- 
pel  of  Jefus  Chrifl,  and  rejeds  the  koran  of  Mahom- 
et ;  why  he  believes  one  to  be  a  true  prophet,  and 
the  other  an  impoilor  ;    he  mufl  be  able  to  aflign 
jfomething,  which  fhaU  appear,  at  leaft,  a  juflilication 
of  his  fentiment.      It  is  not  enough  to  fay  he  was 
educated  in  the  chriilian  faith  :  this  anfwer  will  never 
filence  the  objections  of  infidelity,  or  fatisfy  any  can- 
jdid  inquirer.     Every  man  of  fludy  and   reflection 
DUght  to  be  able  to  aflign  fome  better  reafon  why  he 
is  a  Chriflian.     If  others  would  excufe  their  unac- 
qiuaintance  with  the  evidences  of  Chriflianity,  from 
their  want  of  ability  or  opportunity  to  inquire,  the 
man  of  leifure  and  reading:  cannot  have  this  excufe 

o 

'or  his  ignorance.     A  blind,  implicit  faith  in  him,  is 
I  very  great  reproach. 

Was  it  right  to   believe,  without   any  rational 
f  grounds,  there  is  no  error  fo  fatal,  no  abfurdity,  fo 
^rofs,  but  might  become  an  object  of  our  faith.     All 
K     '  the 


74  THE    NATURE  [SeRM.  VI. 

the  corruptions  of  Chriftianity  are  derived  from  this 
fource.  In  the  darker  ages,  men  believed  the  moft 
iliocklng  abfurdities,  becaufe  tliey  were  forbidden  to 
inquire,  and  becaufe  they  were  told,  faith  was  never 
fo  triumphant,  as  when  it  was  contrary  to  all  reafon. 
Hence  they  fubfcribed  to  the  doclrine  of  tranfubftan- 
tiation,  the  efficacy  of  reliques,  the  infallibility  of  the 
church,  and  many  other  points,  which  now  fhock  the 
proteftant  faith,  and  will  foon  be  univerfally  rejeded. 
Such  abfurd  and  mifchievous  opinions  would  never 
have  gained  any  footing  in  the  world,  had  it  not  been 
for  an  artful  feparation  of  faith  from  its  evidence. 
By  perverting  the  words  of  cur  bleiled  Saviour,  men 
were  led  to  give  up  their  underftandings,  to  believe 
they  fcarce  knew  what,  and  to  take  every  thing  upon 
the  teftimony  of  their  tyrannical  guides.  Thefe  be- 
in  p*  the  confequences  of  yielding  a  blind  a{rent,we  can- 
not fuppofe  our  Lord  had  this  in  view,  when  he  faid, 
bleffed  are  they  ivho  have  not  feen.,  and  yet  have  believed. 

I  PROCEED  then,   thirdly,   to  point  out  his  true 
meaning,  which  I  take  to  be  this,  that,  in  matters  of 
great  moment,  it  is  an  argument  of  great  candor  and 
ingenuity,  to  yield  to  the  beft  evidence  the  fubjecl 
wUl  admit ;  and  that  there  is  more  merit  in  believing 
upon  rational  grounds,  than  infilling  upon  evidence 
of  fenfe.     The  ftory  of  Thomas  will  fully  illuftrate 
any  meaning  :  he  was  repeatedly  informed  by  his  di- 
vine matter,  that  he  fliould  fuffer  by  the  hands  of  the 
Jews,  and  on  the  third  day,  that  he  fliould  rife  again.i 
If  he  was  no  impoftor,  the  apoftle  might  well  fuppofe 
this  event  would  come  to  pafs,  agreeably  to  his  prei 
diction.     That  he  was  none,  he  had  the  beft  evidenc( 
becaufe  he  faw  the  miracles  he  wrought,  and  the  iignj 
and  wonders,  by  which  he  demonftrated  his  divini 
authority  and  milTion.     When,  therefore,  he  was  in^j 

forme( 


iSERM.  VlJ  OF     FAITH.  75 

(formed  by  the  other  difciples,  that  they  had  feen  the 
JLord,  he  ought  not  to  have  doubted  either  the  faft 
iitfelf,  or  their  veracity.  From  what  he  knew  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  and  his  fellow-apoftles,  he  had  no  reafon  to 
hefitate  one  moment.  Had  he  aded  like  a  rational 
Chriftian,  he  would  have  inftantly  yielded  to  their 
jreport,  and  rejoiced  with  them,  that  the  Lord  was 
rifen  again,  to  the  utter  confufion  of  his  enemies,  and 
to  the  everlafting  confolation  of  his  true  difciples. 
But  Thomas  was  in  a  very  incredulous  ftate  of  mind. 
Though  his  Lord  had  often  predicted  his  refurredion, 
and  the  apoftles  declared  they  were  eye-witneffes  of 
jit,  ftill  he  did  not  believe.  He  unreafonably  demanded 
jthe  evidence  of  fenfe  :  nor  was  this  all,  he  obftinately 
ideclared  he  would  perlift  in  unbelief,  unleis  he  were 
ipermitted  to  put  his  finger  into  the  print  of  the  nails, 
;and  lay  his  hand  on  his  Lord's  fide.  This  was  a  very 
jimproper  demand,  and  fuch  as  no  man  has  any  right 
Ito  make  :  leaft  of  all  did  it  become  him,  who  had 
been  converfant  with  Jefus  Chrift,  and  who  had  feen 
and  heard  too  much,  to  have  any  doubt  of  his  divine 
charader. 

If  Thomas  might  demand  ocular  demonftration  of 
his  Lord's  refurreclion,  and  might  reafonably  fufpend 
his  faith  till  that  demand  was  anfwered,  then  might 
all  thofe,  to  whom  this  great  truth  was  propofed,  in- 
fift  upon  the  fame  evidence  :  and  then  might  we  alfo, 
at  this  day,  refolve  not  to  believe  on  the  Son  of  God 
till  we  had  feen  him  with  our  eyes,  and  our  hands 
had  actually  handled  him.  But  we  know,  God  does 
not  fee  fit  to  gratify  all  the  idle  wifhes  and  abfurd 
expectations  of  his  creatures.  He  gives  us  fufficient 
evidence  of  thofe  truths,  which  belong  to  our  peace  j 
and  it  is  our  duty  to  believe,  and  pradife  accordingly. 
When  the  rich  man  lift  up  his  eyes  in  torment,  and 

befought 


yS  THE   NAtURK  [SeRM.  VI; 

befought  father  Abraham  to  fend  one  from  the  dead, 
to  convince  his  brethren  of  another  ftate  of  exiftence, 
he  replied,  they  have  Mofes  and  the  prophets,  let 
them  hear  them  :  they  have  fufficient  evidence  that 
death  will  not  put  a  period  to  their  being  :  the  Jew- 
ifh  law-giver,  and  the  fucceeding  prophets,  have  {aid 
enough  to  convince  them  of  a  future  ftate,  if  they 
are  open  to  conviction  :  if  they  ftDl  difbelieve,  it  cani 
■not  be  for  want  of  fufficient  light  and  evidence,  but 
becaufe  they  are  violently  oppofed  to  the  truth  ;  and 
this  oppofition  would  confirm  them  in  infidelity,  even 
though  one  were  to  arife  from  the  dead.  This  is  the 
obvious  meaning  of  that  conference,  which  was  held 
by  the  patriarch  Abraham  and  the  rich  man,  and 
which  is  recorded  at  length  by  the  evangelift  Luke. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  that  many  things  are  highly 
worthy  of  our  belief,  which  cannot,  however,  be  de- 
monft rated,  or  become  objects  of  fenfe.     The  bleffedj 
God  is  invilible  to  mortal  eye  :  nor  can  vulgar  minds 
comprehend  the    nice  and  intricate  reafonings,  b] 
which  his  being  and  perfeftions  are  fometimes  zxi 
gued  ;    and  yet  every  man  of  common  fenfe  may 
perfuaded  that  God  is,  and  that  he  is  the  wife  anc 
righteous  governor  of  the  world.     From  the  thing^ 
that  are  made,  may  be  feen  his  eternal  power  an< 
godhead  ;  fo  that  they  are  fools,  and  without  excufe| 
who  fay  there  is  no  God.     The  atheift  is  the  mof 
credulous  perfon  living,  becaufe  he  believes  thinj 
that  can  be  neither  feen  nor  underftood. 

Again — The  future  judgment,  the  refurreclion  oi 
the  body,  and  a  life  to  come,  are  not  objedg  of  fight, 
nor  are  they  capable  of  demonftration,  in  the  fi:ri( 
and  philofophical  fenfe  of  the  word,  and  yet  it  woulc 
be  very  unreafonable  not  to  believe  the  certainty  oi 
them.     They  are  all  fupported  by  fuch  evidence,  a^ 

ought 


5erm.  Vlj  OF  iTAiTi^*'  77 

ought  to  influence  a  candid  mind  :    we  are  governed 
by  iefs  in  our  temporal  concerns  ;    and  it  would  ar- 
j  gue  a  great  defed  in  our  underftanding,  and  a  moft 
j  obftinate  perverfenefs  of  heart,  to  rejeft  either  of  thefe 
!  truths  ;  becaufe  moral  certainty  is  the  moft  we  can 
I  arrive  at,  they  being  incapable  of  ftrid  demonilration. 
j      To  apply  this  reafoning  to  the  fubjecl  before  us. 
We  are  informed  by  thofe,  who  were  eye-witneffes 
of  the  fad,  that  Jefus  Chrift  has  arifen  from  the  dead. 
I  The  fame,  who  alTured  Thomas  they  had  feen  the 
j  Lord,  affures  us  in  their  writings,  that  they  had  re*- 
I  peated  interviews  with  the  blelled  Jefus  ;   faw  him 
i  alive  after  his  paffion,  and  for  the  fpace  of  forty  days 
i  were  with  him  ;    and  heard  him   converfe  of  the 
j  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God.     We  may 
I  perhaps  wilh  we  had  been  prefent  on  thefe  occalions ; 
I  or,  we  may  now  think  it  would  be  a  great  confirma- 
Ition  of  our  faith,  could  v/e  be  favoured  with  a  Ught 
1  of:  our  .afcendsd  Lord.-    But  how  great  foever  a  grat- 
j  ification  this  might  be,  and  however  deiirable  fuch 
an  interview,  we  have  no  right  to  make  it  the  con- 
dition of  our  faith.     We  have  no  right  to  fay,  wc 
muft  behold  the  print  of  the  nails,  or  the  fear  on  his 
fide,  before  we  can  believe.     It  is  fuiHcient,  that  the 
refurreclion  of  Chrifl;  is  attefled   by  perfons,  who 
knew  him  before  his  death,  and  faw  him  after  he  had 
arifen.     It  ought  to  fatisfy  us,  that  he  appeared  to  his 
difciples  and  followers  at  different  times ;  that  he  eat 
and  drank  with  them  ;  and  that  he  was  feen  of  more 
than  five  hundred  brethren  at  once.     And,  finally,  it 
fiiould  be  an  abfolute  confirmation  of  our  faith,  that 
the  witneiTes  of  this  event  could  not  imagine  they 
faw  all  thefe  things,  when  there  was  no  reality  ;  that 
ley  could  not  be  fuch  impoftors,  as  to  propagate  an 
abfolute  falfehcod  throughout  the  vv'orid  ;    or  fuch 

fools. 


i 


7^  THE    NATUR2  [SeRM.  VI. 

fools,  as  to  die  in  fupport  of  it  :  their  charaders  will 
bear  the  ftriclell  examination  ;  and  their  whole  con- 
dud  demonftrably  proves,  they  were  neither  enthu- 
iiafts,  madmen,  nor  impoftors. 

Thus  attefted,  we  are  bound  to  admit  the  refur- 
rection  of  our  Lord,  though  we  have  not  fenlible 
evidence  of  it.  Though  we  muft  rely  upon  tefti- 
mony,  yet  that  teftimony  is  fo  fair  and  impartial,  that 
we  acl  againft  the  dictates  of  reafon,  if  we  do  not 
make  it  the  ground  of  our  faith.  What  though  our 
eyes  have  not  feen,  nor  our  hands  handled  the  word 
of  life,  yet  he  was  both  feen  and  handled  by  thofe, 
%vho  were  as  free  from  enthuiiafm  or  credulity  as 
ourfelves  ;  and  we  ought  to  believe  their  record. 
They  could  not  be  deceived,  nor  could  they  have  any 
inducement  to  deceive  others.  We  fhall  foon  plunge 
ourfelves  into  the  very  thickeft  fliades  of  infidelity, 
if  we  refolve,  with  Thomas,  to  take  "  no  miracle  upon 
hear-fay  ;  or  not  to  believe  any  one's  fenfes  but  our 
own." 

But  the  fame  evidence,  which  attends  this  impor- 
tant truth,  attends  the  other  eifential  dodrines*  of 
Chriftianity.     The  whole  gofpel  is  recommended  by 
fuch  convincing  proofs,  that,  if  we  rejeft  it,  we  ad: 
contrary  to  the  light  and  evidence,  which  govern  us 
in  other  cafes.     We  ad  a  very  unreafonable  part,  if 
we  pronounce  the  whole  a  cunningly  devifed  fablc,.| 
merely  becaufe  we  were  not  on  earth,  when  it  was 
publilhed  to  mankind  ;  and  we  make  a  very  unrigh-^ 
teous  demand,  if  we  infill  upon  a  miracle  at  this  time, 
for  the  foundation  and  fupport  of  our  faith.     God 
has  fufficiently  proved  Jefus  Chrifi:  to  be  the  promifed 
Mefliah,  and  his  gofpel  to  be  the  word  of  truth  ;  andJ 
if  we  rejed  either,  our  heart  muft  be  more  in  fault 
than  our  head.     Our  corrupt  pafilons  and  inclinations 

muft] 


SeRM.  VI.]  OF     FAITH.  79 

muft  be  the  fource  of  our  infidelity ;  and  this  muft 
be  our  condemnation,  that  we  chofe  darknefs  rather 
than  light,  becaufe  our  deeds  were  evil. 

Tfie  laft  thing  I  lliall  infift  on  from  thefe  words,  is 
the  fuperior  bleffednefs  of  thofe,  luho  have  notfecn,  and 
y£t  have  believed.  To  yield  to  fuch  evidence  as,  feri- 
oufly  examined,  may  be  eftcemed  a  juft  foundation 
of  our  faith,  is  certainly  the  mark  of  a  liberal,  candid, 
and  humble  mind  ;  it  fliows  we  have  no  corrupt  op- 
pofition  to  the  truth  ;  that  we  are  ready  to  receive  it 
in  the  love  of  it.  A  man  is  pronounced  bleffed,  not 
becaufe  he  believes  abfardities,  nor  becaufe  he  believes 
without  any  proper  evidence  ;  but  becaufe  he  yields 
to  the  beft  evidence  the  fubjecl  will  admit,  if  that  evi- 
dence amounts  to  a  flrong  prcfumption  :  and  if  the 
faith  of  fuch  a  perfon  has  a  proper  influence  over  his 
temper  and  life,  he  is  more  bleffed  than  he,  who  be- 
lieves upon  the  teftimony  of  his  own  fenfes.  Had 
Thomas  believed  upon  the  report  of  the  apoflles,  his 
faith  would  have  been  more  excellent  and  meritorious 
than  theirs.  They  had  adually  feen  the  Lord  ;  he  had 
only  been  informed  of  the  refurreclion  ;  for  which 
reafon,  his  candor  and  fimplicity  would  have  been 
more  exalted  by  believing,  than  theirs  could  polTibly 
be  :  but  the  honour  and  merit  of  fuch  a  triumphant 
principle  of  faith  he  wantonly  forfeited,  becaufe  he 
refolved  not  to  believe  that  Jefus  had  arifen,  till  he 
had  been  eye-witnefs  of  the  fact. 

Let  his  conduct  teach  us  a  wife  lelTon.  A  Saviour, 
whom  we  have  never  feen  ;  a  fyftem  of  religion,  not 
originally  addreffed  to  us,  nor,  at  this  time,  enforced 
by  its  own  immediate  author,  are  now  propofed  to 
our  humble  belief.  Let  us  not,  with  Thomas,  bind 
our  faith  to  our  fenfes ;  but  let  us  cheerfully  yield  our 
aflent  to  the  divine  authority  of  the  former,  and  to 

the 


^O  THE    NATURE  [SeRM.  VL 

the  undoubted  truth  and  obligation  of  the  latter. 
There  is  a  merit  in  believing  upon  fuch  evidence  as  is 
offered  to  us :  it  does  not  reflect  upon  our  under- 
ftanding,  but  it  does  honour  to  our  heart ;  it  is  not 
a  mark  of  our  credulity,  but  of  our  candor  ;  it  is  a 
proof  that  vi^e  are  not  difordered  by  pallion  nor  blind- 
ed by  prejudice,  but  that  we  are  humble  inquirers  af- 
ter truth,  and  are  ready  to  embrace  it. 

Blessed  is  the  man,  vviio,  on  this  foundation,  be- 
lieves on  Jcfus  Chrift,  and  receives  him  as  the  only 
begotten  Son  of  God  :  he  acls  the  part  of  a  reafon- 
able  being  :  he  difcovers  that  temper  of  mind,  w^hich 
is  effential  to  a  good  character  ;  and  without  which 
no  man  can  be  a  Chriftian.  To  believe  upon  fuffi- 
cient  evidence,  is  an  indifpenfable  branch  of  religious 
duty.  This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  we  believe  on 
his  Son.  It  is  part  of  the  duty  affigned  us,  that  we 
affent,  with  our  whole  hearts,  to  all  the  doctrines  of 
revelation,  and  particularly  to  the  refurrection  of  its 
divine  author,  by  which  the  whole  is  confirmed.  If 
we  do  not,  we  are  guilty  of  a  notorious  act  of  difobe- 
dience,  and  muft  fuffer  for  it  in  another  world  :  for 
he  that  believeth  not,  Ihall  be  damned.  His  infideHty 
is  a  proof  of  fuch  a  temper  of  mind,  of  fuch  obftinacy 
and  blindnefs,  as  abfolutely  unlit  a  man  for  the  king- 
dom of  God. 

Convinced  therefore,by  the  many  infallible  proofs, 
by  which  Jefus  Chrift  eftablilhed  his  divine  miffion, 
let  us  not  be  faithlefs,  but  believing.  Without  wait- 
ing for  his  evidence,  let  us  exclaim  with  the  apoftle. 
Our  Lord  and  our  God  !  Let  us  receive  him  as  one,Vv'hom 
the  father  fanclified  and  fent  into  the  world  :  fent  to 
deliver  mankind  from  ignorance  and  error  ;  to  de- 
liver them  from  the  reigning  power  of  their  lufts, 
from  the  triumphs  of  fatan,  and  the  victory  of  the 

grave. 


iSerm.VIJ  of  faith.  8 1 

igrave.  Let  us  receive  his  gofpel  as  the  infpired  word 
bf  truth  ;  and  let  us  not  be  afliamed  to  own  ourfelves 
his  difciples.  If  yv^  believe  in  o\ir  hearts  that  Jefus 
is  the  Ghrift,  we  ought  to  confefs  with  our  lips  that 
God  hath  raifed  him  up  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour, 
to  give  repentance  to  Ifrael,  and  remiffion  of  fin. 

Permit  me,  in  fine,  to  urge  it  upon  you,  as  a  mat- 

( [ter  of  the  lafl  importance,  if  you  believe,  to  manifefl 

our  faith  by  your  works,  and  by  works  to  make  it 

erred.     It  was  by  a  holy  life,  the  firfl  Chriflians 

jevldenccd  the  reality  and  the  greatnefs  of  their  faith. 

iThey  did  not  build  their  hopes  upon  an  empty  fpec- 

[ulation,  but  upon  an  active  principle  ;  which  wrought 

\w  love,  purified  their  hearts,  and  influenced  them  in 

r  kll  the  ways  of  holy  obedience.     Their  faith  made . 

j  them  pious,  devout,  jufl,  benevolent,  temperate,  hum- 

'  pie,  and  univerfally  fubmiflive  to  the  authority  of 

>  Chrifl.     They  did  not  believe  one  thing  and  praclife 

I  mother ;  but  between  their  faith  and  their  practice, 

mere  was  a  perfect  confiflence. 

And  thus  muft  we  alfo  conduct  in  the  prefect 
f  tvprld,  if  we  v/ould  make  it  appear  to  all,  that  we  be- 
I  ieve  to  thefavlns:  of  our  fouls.     Little  will  it  avail  to 
\'n  the  Son  of  God  with  our  lips,  if  in  works  we 
.  iiy  him  ;  and  as  little  will  it  profit  us,  to  believe  in 
jur  hearts  that  God.^ifed  him  from  the  dead,  unlefs 
the  perfuafion  of  thisii^inith  raifeus  from  the  death  of 
in,  to  newnefs  of  life,  and  new  obedience.     For  this 
i:nd  it  is,  we  are  exhorted  to  believe  on  the  Saviour, 
hat  the  truths  of  his  gofpel  may  link  deep  into  our 
learts  ;  and  that  we  may  have  an  unfailing  principle 
)f  virtue  within  us.     Let  us  then,  li%''e  and  act  under 
|.he  influence  of  this  principle  ;  let  us  yield  ourfelves 
p  to  the  dominion  of  faith  ;  let  it  be  our  great  con- 
cern 
L 


82  ON    AN    EVIL    HEART  [SeRM.  VII. 

cern  to  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  it  ;  and  for  pardon 
and  acceptance,  let  us  rely  on  Jefus  Chrift,  whom 
having  not  feen,  we  love,  and  whom,  though  now 
we  fee  not,  believing,  we  rejoice  with  joy  unfpeak- 
able,  and  full  of  glory. 


pennon  vii. 


On  an  evil  Heart  of  Unbelief. 
Hebrews  hi.   12. 

<'  TAKE  HEED,  BRETHREN,  LEST  THERE  BE  IN  ANY 
OF  YOU  AN  EVIL  HEART  OF  UNBELIEF,  IN  DE- 
PARTING   FROM    THE    LIVING    GOD.** 

IT  would  be  very  diiEcult  to  account  for  this  ad- 
monition, if  faith  be  a  mere  act  of  the  under- 
ftanding,  and  in  no  refpect  an  object  of  choice. — 
Upon  this  fuppofition,  it  would  be  highly  improper 
to  exhort  any  one  to  believe ;  and  as  improper  to 
condemn  any  perfon  for  refuling  his  affent.  All 
applaufes  beftowed  on  the  believer,  and  all  reproofs 
levelled  at  the  infidel,  would  be  unjuft  and  abfurd. 
And  the  very  terms,  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,'* 
would  be  as  great  a  contradiction  as  language  could 
furnilh. 

But,  if  we  give  the  fubje6t  a  ferious  and  delibe- 
rate examination,  we  fhall  find  no  fuch  oppofition  in 
the  exhortations  of  the  holy  fcripture,  and  the  dic- 
tates of  common  fenfe.     It  is  true,  we  are  moft  fol- 

emnly 


SlRM.  VII.]  OF    UNBELIEF*  8^ 

emnly  commanded  to  believe.  And  we  are  threat- 
ened with  the  utmoft  difpleafure  of  God,  if  we  dif- 
obey  the  divine  command.  Infidels  are  held  up  to 
view  as  highly  criminal.  And  refpecling  fuch  as  leave 
the  world  in  this  ftate,  we  are  affured,  that  they  fhall 
not  fee  life  ;  but  that  the  wrath  of  God  will  abide 
on  them.  Thefe,  and  many  others  of  the  fame  im- 
port, muft  be  conlidered  as  very  ilrong  expreflions. 
And  they  fuggeft  the  neceility  of  attending  to  the 
fubject,  and  inquiring,  whether  faith  be  abfolutely 
independent  of  choice  ;  and  whether  the  will  have 
no  influence  in  the  formation  of  our  character,  as 
believers  or  inlidels. 

It  is  eafy  to  perceive,  how  this  queftion  would  be 
determined  by  the  infpired  author  of  the  text.  The 
writer  to  the  Hebrews  feems  to  be  very  apprehenfive 
of  their  rejedling  the  gofpel,  in  confequence  of  the 
wicked  arts,  which  were  praclifed  upon  them.  He 
therefore,  ufes  every  arg-ument  to  ftrengthen  their 
faith,  and  to  keep  them  Heady  to  the  chriftian  profef- 
lion.  To  imprefs  them  with  the  danger  of  unbelief, 
he  calls  their  attention  to  the  fathers  of  the  Jewifh 
nation  ;  and  Ihows  how  they  were  puniflied  for  their 
infidelity.  The  text  is  then  introduced,  "  take  heed, 
brethren,  left  there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil  heart  of 
unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God." 

My  defign,  in  the  following  difcourfe,  is  to  explain 
the  feveral  truths  contained  in  thefe  words  j  and  to 
point  out  the  fpirit  of  this  exhortation. 

"  The  living  God"  is  a  term  juflly  applicable  to 
the  fupreme  being.  "  He  is  from  everlafting  :  and 
his  years  do  not  fail."  He  has  a  principle  of  life  in 
himfelf.  All  other  beings  received  their  exiftence 
from  a  fuperior  caufe  ;  and  for  its  continuance,  they 
depend  on  the  power  from  which  it  was  originally 

derived. 


§4  ON    AN    EVIL    HEART  [SeRM.  Vlli 

derived.     But  God  is  felf-exiftent  and  independent  :' 
he  lives  by  a  neceflity  in  his  own  nature.     Confe- 
quently,  the  language  in  the  text  is  applicable  to  him, 
in  a  fublimer  fenfe,  than  to  any  other  being  in  the 
univerfe. 

Nor  is  it  peculiar  to  the  author  of  this  epiftle.  In 
various  parts  of  the  holy  fcripture,  the  fupreme  Je- 
hovah is  denominated  the  living  God.  And  in  the 
book  of  Revelation,  he  introduces  himfelf  to  the 
prophet  in  the  following  ftrain  :  "  I  am  the  beginning, 
and  the  ending,  which  is,  and  which  was,  and  which 
is  to  come,  the  Almighty."  The  reafon,  why  effen- 
tial  life  and  immortality  are  fo  often  afcribed  to  the 
true  God,  muft  be  by  way  of  diftindion  from  other 
objects  of  worlhip.  The  gods  of  the  Heathen  were 
either  inanimate  beings,  the  lower  creation,  or  dead 
men.  Some  paid  divine  homage  to  the  fun,  moon, 
and  ftars,  to  mountains,  winds,  or  fuch  vifible  ob- 
jefts  as  fuperftition  had  confecrated  ;  others  wor- 
ihipped  birds,  fourfooted  beafts,  and  creeping  things. 
And  there  were  others,  who  proflrated  themfelves 
before  departed  heroes,  or  fuch  as  had  bleffed  man- 
kind by  devifing  ufeful  laws,  or  inventing  ufeful  arts. 
In  contradiftinclion  to  objects  fo  undefervir.g  of  religi- 
ous homage,  the  fupreme  Jehovah  is  ftyled  the  living 
God  :  living,  in  oppolition  to  inanimate  nature,  or 
to  beings,  who  enjoyed  only  a  temporary  and  depend- 
ent exiftence. 

But  from  this  God,  we  are  cautioned  ap'ainfl  a 
wilful  departure,  by  the  writer  in  the  text.  To  de- 
part from  God  is  to  deny  his  exiftence  ;  to  give  up 
his  divine  perfeftions  and  providence  ;  to  infult  his 
authority ;  or  to  rejed:  any  religion,  which  bears  the 
ftamp  of  truth,  and  which  he  has  condefcended  to 
reveal  to  mankind.     By  departing  from  the  livin^^ 

God, 


SeRM.  VII.]  OF    UNBELIEF.  8j 

God,  in  the  paffage  before  us,  the  apoftle  meant  a 
rejection  of  Chriftianity,  after  having  believed  and 
profefled  it.  The  perfons,  to  whom  this  epiftle  is  ad- 
dreffed,  had  received  the  gofpel  as  the  rule  of  their 
faith  and  lives.  The  completion  of  prophecy,  and 
the  ligns  and  wonders,  with  which  it  was  accompa- 
nied, had  overcome  all  objections,  and  made  them 
converts  to  Chriftianity.  But,  as  the  religion  of  Jefus 
was  from  above,  as  its  author  was  the  Son  of  God, 
as  he  had  a  fpecial  commiffion  to  preach  thofe  truths, 
which  he  delivered,  and  to  perform  the  miracles, 
which  eftablifhed  his  charader,  to  rejedl  the  Saviour, 
was  to  depart  from  God.  Apoftafy,  therefore,  is  the 
idea  comprehended  in  thefe  terms. 

We  are  not,  however,  confined  to  this  limited 
view  of  the  fubje^l.  It  is  true,  we  depart  from  God, 
when  we  make  a  public  renunciation  of  the  gofpel ; 
but  we  likewife  depart  from  him,  when  we  walk  un- 
worthily of  our  holy  vocation.  Without  rejecting 
Chriftianity ,we  may  lofe  its  amiable  temper,  and  grow 
inattentive  to  its  laws.  We  may  difregard  the  au- 
thority of  Chrift,  as  our  moral  governor ;  we  may 
refufe  to  follow  him  as  our  pattern,  and  as  far  as  re- 
fpects  our  relation  to  him,  as  difciples,  we  may  retain 
nothing  but  the  name.  In  this  cafe,  "we  are  guilty  of 
a  fpecies  of  apoftafy.  And,  in  the  fame  degree,  in 
which  we  depart  from  the  rules  of  the  gofpel,  we 
may  be  charged  with  departing  from  God.  Every 
omiffion  of  duty,  is  one  ftep  towards  this  ftate  of 
dereliction.  We  recede  ftill  farther,  as  our  offences 
multiply.  And  our  departure  is  complete,  when  wc 
give  up  Chriftianity  as  a  fable,  and  relinquifti,  at  once, 
its  profeffion  and  practice.  Vv  e  read,  in  the  hiftory  of 
our  bleffed  Saviour,  of  fome  who  turned  back,  and 
walked  no  more  with  him.     And  of  this  defcription 

are 


86  ON    AN    EVIL    HEART  [SeRM.  VIL 

are  all,  who  make  an  abfolute  furrender  of  his  religion* 
To  defpife  the  gofpel  is  to  reject  the  Saviour.  And 
to  depart  from  him,  who  bore  a  divine  commiffion,is 
to  depart  from  him,  who  gave  it. 

But  from  fo  high  an  offence  againft  the  living  God, 
I  proceed  to  the  fatal  caufe  affigned  in  the  text.  And 
that  is, "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief."  Thefe  terms  de- 
ferve  a  particular  examination.  Is  it  a  fact,  that  the 
heart  has  fome  influence  over  the  underftanding,  in 
regard  to  the  nature,  objects,  and  degree  of  our  faith  ? 
Or,  do  we  neceffarily  believe  or  difbelieve,  according 
to  the  evidence  propofed  to  the  mind  ?  As  this  point 
fliall  be  decided,  we  fhall  either  approve  or  condemn 
the  language  of  the  apoftle. 

Some  have  afferted,  that  the  alTent  of  the  under- 
ftanding is  an  ad:,  over  which  the  will  has  no  control. 
The  mind,  according  to  their  view  of  it,  may  be 
compared  to  a  balance ;  and  the  arguments  for,  or 
againfl  any  propofition,  to  weights  ;  and  as  the  lat- 
ter always  determine  the  motions  of  the  former,  fo 
they  infer  that  the  mind  muft  neceffarily  yield  to  fu- 
perior  evidence.  According  to  this  reprefentation,  a 
man  muft  of  necefiity  believe  the  gofpel,  if  the  argu- 
ments in  its  favour  outweigh  objections.  In  this  cafe, 
he  could  not,  if  difpofed,  withhold  his  affent  j  but 
muft  do  homage  to  Chrift  as  the  Son  of  God. 

Others  objedto  this  reprefentation  ;  they  main- 
tain, that  the  immaterial  principle,  ftyled  the  mind, 
derives  no  illuftration  from  the  balance,  and  bears  no 
refemblance  to  that  paflive  inftrument ;  they  inftft  that 
arguments  are  not  analagous  to  weights  :  and,  ap- 
pealing to  experience,  they  affirm,  that  we  can  believe 
on  flight  grounds,  when  fo  difpofed  ;  and  can  refift 
fuch  evidence  as  ought  to  fatisfy  any  reafonable  being, 
when  our  prejudices  are  oppofed  to  the  truth.     Of 

this, 


SeRM.  VII.]  OF    UNBELIEF.  '$>/ 

this,  fo  many  Inftances  can  be  produced,  that  they 
conlider  the  point  inconteftably  eftabliflicd. 

If  we  examine  the  fubjed  with  attention,  we  fliall 
find  that  it  has  been  darkened  by  many  w^ords  ;  not 
that  it  lies  beyond  the  reach  of  human  comprehen- 
fion.  That  there  are  truths,  which  we  cannot  but 
believe,  is  an  undoubted  fact ;  and  that  there  are 
points,  to  which  we  cannot  alTent,  being  abfolutely 
incredible,  is  as  certain  :  but  when  any  thing  is  pro- 
pofed  as  an  article  of  faith,  it  lies  with  us  to  give  it  a 
fair  examination ;  to  weigh  the  arguments  brought 
in  its  favour  ;  to  confider  objections  ;  to  compare  the 
evidence  on  both  hdes,  and  to  let  the  refult  deter- 
mine our  faith.  We  can  moft  unqueftionably  take 
thefe  meafures  to  fatisfy  our  minds  ;  and  as  far  as 
belief  depends  upon  fuch  previous  examination,  it  is 
fubjecl  to  the  will. 

To  apply  thefe  obfervations  to  the  chriftian  revela- 
tion— When  the  gofpel  was  firft  offered  to  the  Jews, 
it  was  in  their  power  to  liften  to  its  truths  with  candor, 
and  to  conlider  and  compare  the  arguments,  by  which 
it  was  recommended ;  they  were  at  liberty  to  recur  to 
the  ancient  prophecies  refpedling  the  Meffiah,  and  to 
inquire,  whether  they  were  accomplilhed  in  Chrift. 
The  works  of  our  bleffed  Saviour  were  alfo  fubmitted 
to  their  infpeclion  ;  and  they  might  fatisfy  themfelves 
whether  they  were  a  mere  impolition,  or  the  finger 
of  God.  In  a  word,  as  Chrift  did  not  demand  a 
blind  affent  to  his  religion,  but  exhibited  certain 
proofs,  on  which  they  were  to  ground  their  faith,  the 
Jews  might  have  inquired  for  themfelves  ;  and  their 
reception  of  the  gofpel,  or  its  rejeftion,  might  have 
been  the  confequence  of  fair  examination  :  but  re- 
fuling  Chriilianity,  without  previous  inquiry,  their 

infidelity 


SS  ON    AN    EVIL    HEART  [SeRM.  VII. 

iiijfidelity  proceeded,  not  from  a  miftaken  underftand- 
ing,  but  an  evil  heart. 

Anj>  the  faane  charge  might  be  juftly  urged  againfl 
us,  if  we  were  to  follow  their  perverfe  example.  It 
is  in  our  power  to  examine  both  the  internal  and  ex- 
ternal evidence  of  the  gofpel ;  we  may  compare  the 
predictions  of  thofe,who  appeared  before  our  Saviour, 
with  the  tellimony  of  thofe,  who  followed  him  ;  we 
may  examine  the  facred  record  of  his  vv^orks,  and 
inquire  what  marks  it  hears  of  authenticity  j  we  may 
try  the  witneffes  of  his  refurredion  ;  we  may  trace 
the  progrefs  of  Chriftianity  from  its  infancy  to  this 
period,  obferve  how  it  made  its  way  in  the  world, 
and  inquire  what  fupport  it  derives  from  the  tellimo- 
ny of  thofe  martyrs,  who  died  in  its  defence,  and  the 
arts  of  thofe  Jewifli  and  Heathen  enemies,  who  at- 
tempted its  overthrow.  Finally,  we  may  ftudy  the  pro- 
phetick  parts  of  the  chriilian  revelation,  and  fee,  for 
ourfelves,  whether  any  paft  events  verify  fome  predic- 
tions, and  give  us  an  earneft  of  the  future  accomiplilh- 
ment  of  others.  Thus  far  we  can  proceed  ;  and  if, 
without  taking  fuch  meafures  to  afcertain  its  truth,  we 
reject  the  gofpel,  we  ad  unreaionably  ;  and  we  prove 
that  the  heart  is  as  much  in  fault  as  the  underftand- 
ing.  It  appears,  therefore,  that  the  will  has  great  in- 
fluence in  determining  our  faith  ;  and  becaufe  we 
may  refufe  to  attend  to  evidence,  and  in  confe- 
quence  of  this  refafal,  may  fall  into  infidelity,  it  fol- 
lows, that  we  are  not  vainly  cautioned  againfl: "  an  evil 
heart  of  unbelief." 

I  NOW  proceed  to  confiJer  this  heart,  as  the  fatal 
caufe  of  every  departure  from  the  living  God.  By 
thefe  terms  we  underftand,  not  merely  a  renunciation 
of  the  gofpel,  but  alfo  a  practical  deviation  from  its 
principles  and  duties  ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  weak- 

nefs 


SeRM.  VII.]  OF     UNBELIEF.  89 

nefs  of  our  faith,  it  is  conceivable  that  we  fhould  grow 
remifs  in  our  behaviour.  When  perfons,  who  once 
believed  Chriftianity,  become  infidels,  it  is  natural  to 
expeft  that  they  fhould  no  longer  feel  its  reflraints  : 
viewing  its  dodrines  and  laws  as  a  human  invention, 
and  having  no  confidence  in  its  promifes  and  threat- 
enings,  their  refpect  would  be  eafily  changed  to  con- 
tempt. Accordingly  we  find  that  religion  meets  with 
lefs  civility  from  fuch  perfons,  than  from  enemies  of 
any  other  defcription  :  of  all  men,  they  arc  moft  in- 
clined to  vilify  its  author  ;  to  ridicule  his  difciples  ; 
and  to  caft  contempt  on  facred  things. 

But,  in  the  different  ftages  towards  abfolute  infi- 
delity, our  departures  from  God  and  our  duty  will 
increafe  with  our  doubts.  To  operate  as  an  effe(5lual 
;refi:raint,  the  laws  of  Chrifi:  muft  be  fincerely  believ- 
ed ;  and  we  mufl:  feel  a  perfect  confidence  in  his  doc- 
trines, particularly  thofe,  which  relate  to  a  future  fl:ate 
of  retribution  As  this  confidence  and  this  perfuafion 
abate,  mufl:  not  Chrifl:ianity  then  lofe  its  moral  influ- 
ence ?  And  fhall  we  not  proceed  from  one  ad:  of  dif- 
obedience  to  another,  as  we  proceed  from  doubts  to 
^bfolute  unbelief  ?  In  the  fame  degree,  in  which  we 
fufpeft  the  divine  authority  of  a  law,  our  reverence 
of  it  mufl:  be  impaired  ;  and  every  doubt  refpecling 
futurity  mufl;  weaken  the  motives  to  obedience. 

These  obfervations  will  be  confirmed,  if  we  ex- 
amine the  confequences  of  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief," 
in  fome,  whofe  adions  are  recorded  in  the  volume  of 
infpiration.  Why  did  our  firft  parents  tranfgrefs  a 
divine  command  ?  becaufe  they  did  not  give  full 
credit  to  the  divine  threatening.  Why  did  the  crimes 
of  the  old  world  ifliie  in  their  deftrudion  ?  becaufe 
they  did  not  believe  Noah,  a  preacher  of  righteouf- 
nels,  who  declared  the  indignation  of  God,  and  pre- 
M  dided 


•$0  ON    AN    EVIL    HEART  [SeRM.  VIL 

dieted  a  deluge.  Why  was  Sodom,  with  three  other 
devoted  cities,  dellroyed  by  fire  ?  becaufe  they  difcred- 
ited  the  teftimony  of  Lot,  who  bore  witnefs  againft 
their  -Lmlawful  and  unnatural  deeds  ;  and  declar- 
ed the  penal  confequences  of  their  abominations. 
Why  did  many  of  the  ancient  people  fail  of  that  reft, 
which 'God  had  provided  ;  and  after  having  heard  of 
the  promifed  land,  perifli  in  the  wildernefs  ?  be- 
caufe of  their  unbeHef.  Hence  thofe  words  of  the 
apoftle,  "  but  with  whom  was  he  grieved  forty  years  ? 
Was  it  not  with  them,  who  had  finned,  whofe  car- 
cafes  fell  in  the  wildernefs  ?  And  to  whom  fware  he 
that  they  fliould  not  enter  into  his  reft,  but  to  them 
that  believed  not  ?"  "Why  were  the  fucceffors  of  this 
generation  vifited  with  the  judgments  of  God  ?  Why 
were  they  carried  into  captivity  ?  And  why  are  the  J 
Jews  at  this  day  without  a  temple,  without  a  city,  and  1 
difperfed  among  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  ?  becaufe 
they  did  not  believe  the  threatenings  of  God,  who, 
firft  by  his  prophets,  and  afterwards  by  his  Son,  ad- 
monifhed,  exhorted,  and  intreated  them  to  forfake 
their  fins ;  and  declared  his  refolution  to  punifh  thera  ^ 
if  they  fliould  perfevere.  And  why  do  fo  many  ads 
of  unrighteoufnefs  difhonour  the  prefent  age  ?  Why  is 
there  fo  much  wickednefs  in  fociety  ?  Why,  in  a 
chriftian  country, are  fo  many  crimes  daily  committed? 
becaufe  that  full  credit  is  not  given  to  the  gofpel,  to 
which  it  is  juftly  entitled  :  many,  who  will  not  pre- 
fume  to  deny  its  authority,  ftill  will  not  acquaint 
themfelves  with  the  nature  and  ftrength  of  its  evi- 
dence ;  they  will  not  fubmit  to  the  labour  of  examin- 
ation ;  for  which  reafon  doubts  and  fufpicions  arife  ; 
and  the  ftronger  they  are,  the  lefs  fenfible  they  be- 
come of  the  moral  influence  of  Chriftianity.  To  be 
efficacious,  as  I  have  already  obferved,  the  gofpel  muft 

b& 


1 


SeRM.  VII.]  OF    UNBELIEF.  5I  . 

be  cordially  received  ;  and  we  muft  repofe  an  un- 
shaken confidence  in  its  truth.  An  evil  heart  of  un- 
belief will,  therefore,  naturally  account  for  our  tranf- 
greffions. 

:  The  truths  contained  in  the  text,  will  juftify  the 
exhortation,  with  which  they  are  preceded.  "  Take 
heed,"  fays  the  apoftle,  "  left  there  be  in  any  of  you 
an  evil  heart  of  unbelief.'*  This  admonition  is  not 
levelled  againft  a  fpirit  of  inquiry.  Born  in  a  chrif- 
tian  country,  and  educated  in  the  chriftian  religion, 
we  are  not  difcharged  from  the  duty  of  examina- 
tion ;  nor  ought  we  blindly  to  believe,  from  the 
apprehenfion  that  inquiry  will  give  rife  to  uncom- 
fortable doubts,  and  that  we  endanger  our  faith  by 
infpecling  the  evidences  of  our  religion  :  fo  far  from 
it,Chriftianity  invites  the  examination  of  all,  to  whom 
it  is  offered  ;  and  it  is  a  principle  of  our  religion, 
that  we  ihould  be  able  to  give  to  every  man  a  reafon 
for  the  faith,  which  is  in  us. 

The  evil  then,  againft  which  we  are  admoniflied  in 
the  text,  is  the  rejection  of  Chriftianity  without  pre- 
vious examination ;  or  the  admitting  of  doubts  and 
fufpicions,  through  mere  inattention  to  the  fubjecl. 
And  it  would  become  us  to  keep  a  conftant  watch  over 
our  hearts,  left  they  fliould  be  thus  fatally  perverted. 
With  the  fliipwreck  of  faith,  we  fhall  probably  make 
fliipwreck  of  a  good  confcience.  All  the  reftraints 
of  the  gofpel  are  neceffary  to  reprefs  our  lufts  and 
paflions,  and  to  preferve  us  from  a  deliberate  courfc 
of  wickednefs.  To  what  exceffes  then,  may  we  not 
proceed,  when  thofe  reftraints  are  taken  off  ?  What 
fecurity  have  we,  that  we  fhall  not  go  on  from  one 
ad  of  difobedience  to  another  ?  And  why  may  we 
not  be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulnefs  of  fin,  when 

we 


92  ON    AN   EVIL   HEART.  [SeRM.  VU, 

we  ceafe  to  contemplate  its  malignity,  and  when  its 
penal  confequences  are  no  longer  before  our  eyes  ? 

Let  the  appreheniion  of  thefe  exceffes  enforce  the 
admonition  in  the  text.  Believing  the  divine  au- 
thority of  the  gofpel,  we  fliall  refpect  its  precepts  as 
the  laws  of  God.  Believing  the  facred  miflion,  and 
fpotlefs  purity  of  Chrift,  we  fliall  have  the  allurements 
of  a  good  example.  Believing  that  the  prefent  ftate 
is  not  final,  but  that  we  fhall  be  hereafter  rewarded 
according  to  our  works,  we  fliall  have  a  moft  power- 
ful motive  to  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments. 
The  holy  fcriptures,  when  fincerely  believed,  and  dil- 
igently ftudied,  are  able  to  make  us  wife  to  falvation. 
Of  what  infinite  importance  is  it  therefore,  that  we 
hold  fafl:  the  profeflion  of  our  faith  without  waver- 
ing !  How  ought  we  to  guard  againft  doubts  and  fuf- 
picions  ?  And  how  diligently  fliould  we  examine  the 
foundations  of  our  religion,  before  we  prefume  to  re^ 
je6t  it  as  the  rule  of  our  behaviour  ? 

Such  a  meafure  mufl:  be  attended  with  confequences, 
which  no  language  can  defcribe.  To  depart  from  the 
living  God,  after  having  confecrated  ourfelves  to  his 
fervice,  mull  be  regarded  as  no  common  offence.  To 
reject  the  Son  of  God  as  our  lawgiver  and  example  ; 
to  pronounce  him  an  impoftor,  and  his  gofpel  a  mere 
fable,  is  an  indignity,  which  he  will  not  fail  to  refent. 
We  may  endeavour  to  banifli  thefe  reflections  ;  and 
we  may  fucceed  in  keeping  out  of  view  the  confe- 
quences of  infidelity ;  but  it  is  an  awful  truth,  that 
we  cannot  finally  efcape,  if  we  neglect  this  great  fal- 
vation. 


■*virtSS*-"*^^^^^p»T9^*- 


Sermon 


Serm.  VIIIJ         office  of  reason,  b*r.  95 


)ttrmn  viii. 


OfHce  of  Reafon  in  Religion. 
I  Corinthians  x.  15. 

*'  I    SPEAK    AS    TO    WISE    MEN  *.      JUDGE    YE    WHAT 
I    SAY.** 

THE  apoftle  Paul,  as  he  had  been  the  inftrument 
of  converting  the  Corinthians,  felt  a  generous- 
concern  to  preferve  them  in  the  faith  and  purity  of 
the  gofpel.  Having  been  formerly  a  lewd,  luxurious, 
and  vicious  people,  he  knew  they  were  in  great  dan- 
ger of  relapling  into  their  early  habits.  This  he  might 
have  inferred  from  the  eftablifhed  laws  of  the  human 
conftitution.  But  the  matter  was  put  beyond  all 
doubt,  by  the  diforders,  which  prevailed  in  the  Co- 
rinthian church,  not  many  years  after  its  eftablifli* 
ment.  In  the  lirft  place,  it  was  difturbed  by  parties 
and  faftions  :  in  the  next,  it  cheriflied  in  its  bofom 
a  notorious  offender,  who  had  been  guilty  of  inceft. 
A  covetous  and  litigious  temper  had  likewife  difcov- 
ered  itfelf  in  that  church.  And  finally,  they  had 
made  fome  approaches  towards  idolatry,  by  turning 
the  Lord's-fupper  into  an  intemperate  revel. 

To  imprefs  them  with  their  finful  deviations  from 
chriftian  duty,  and  to  excite  within  them  a  juft  fenfe 
of  their  danger,  the  apoftle  addrelTes  thefe  faulty  Co* 
rinthians  in  the  following  words  :  "  Wherefore,  my 
dearly  beloved,  flee  from  idolatry.  /  /peak  as  to  wife 
men  :  judge  ye  what  I  fay."  That  is,  I  have  been  faith- 
fully fetting  before  you  the  errors,  into  which  you 

have 


J 


94  OFFICE    OF    REASON  [SeRM.  VllI, 

have  fallen  ;  and  the  guilt,  which  you  may  ftill  fur- 
ther contract.  Particularly  have  I  admoniflied  you 
againft  all  thofe  idolatrous  pra6lices,  to  which  you 
were  accuftomed  in  your  Heathen  ftate.  Let  me  now 
repeat  the  admonition.  As  you  regard  the  honour  of 
your  religion,  the  favour  of  God,  and  the  future  fal- 
vation  of  your  fouls,  flee  from  all  approaches  towards 
idolatry.  I  now  fpeak  as  unto  wife  men.  I  addrefs 
myfelf  to  thofe,  who  have  had  an  opportunity  to  in- 
form themfelves  on  the  fubjecl.  I  call  upon  you  to 
examine  the  matter  with  due  attention.  And  I  refer 
it  to  your  own  cooler  and  more  deliberate  thoughts, 
whether  there  be  not  reafon  in  what  I  have  advanced. 
In  this  manner,  I  have  no  doubt,  St.  Paul  meant  to 
exprefs  himfelf ;  and  that  the  Corinthians  fo  under- 
ftood  him,  there  is  every  reafon  to  believe. 

But,  in  the  further  profecution  of  the  fubjecl,  I 
fhall  not  confine  myfelf  to  the  cafe  of  thefe  early 
Chriflians.  The  words  of  the  text  are  applicable  to 
all,  who  receive  the  chriftian  revelation.  It  is  the  duty 
of  every  man  to  make  ufe  of  that  portion  of  reafon, 
which  God  has  given  him.  When  we  go  to  our  bi- 
bles, we  muft  take  our  underftandings  with  us  ;  we 
muft  make  them  our  guide,  when  we  weigh  the  evi-  i 
dence  of  Chriftianity  ;  we  muft  employ  them  to  aC  ' 
certain  the  meaning  of  the  holy  fcriptures.  In  order 
to  perceive  the  excellency,  ufe,  and  beauty  of  divine 
revelation,  we  muft  have  recourfe  to  this  faculty. 
And  we  muft  fo  far  reverence  the  authority  of  reafon, 
as  to  admit  no  doclrine  to  be  divine,  which  is  direct- 
ly contrary  to  its  intuitive  perceptions.  Of  the  truth  ■ 
of  thefe  pofitions,  I  feel  the  fulleft  conviction.  And 
that  the  apoftles  had  the  like  conviction,  is  manifeft 
from  the  words  which  follow  :  "  Prove  all  things  5 
fearch  the  fcriptures :  be  ready  to  give  an  anfwer  to 

every 


SeRM.  Vill.IJ  m    H.E1.IGI0N.  9_j 

every  man,  that  afketli  a  reafon  of  the  hope  that  is  in 
us  :  in  underllanding  be  men."  All  thefe  directions 
fuppofe  that  reafon  is  a  very  important  faculty  ;  and 
that  it  ought  to  be  exercifed  on  fubjedls  of  religion. 

My  defign  then,  in  the  following  difcourfe,  is  to 
point  out  the  proper  office  of  reafon,  fofar  as  religion 
and  revelation  are  concerned.  And,  lirft,  as  Chrif- 
tians,  we  fhould  exercife  our  underflandings  upon  the 
evidence  of  the  gofpel.  Otherwife,  how  ftiall  we  be 
able  to  give  a  reafon  for  the  faith  which  is  in  us.  To 
fay  that  we  were  born  and  educated  Chriftians,  will 
not  fatisfy  every  inquirer.  To  fay  that  we  feel  our 
religion  to  be  true,  will  be  conlidered  rather  as  a  flight 
of  enthuliafm,  than  as  a  fober  argument.  There  is 
no  other  way  to  fatisfy  others,  and  to  difcharge  our 
duty  to  ourfelves,  than  the  application  of  our  reafon- 
ing  faculty  to  the  internal  and  external  evidence,  on 
which  Chriftianity  refts.  i 

It  is  argued  in  favour  of  our  holy  religion,  that  it 
bears  internal  marks  of  the  truth.  One  office  of 
reafon  then,  is,  to  examine  this  argument.  We  fhould 
repair  to  the  writings  of  the  evangelifts  and  apoftles, 
and  fliould  ferioufly  confider  whether  the  account, 
which  they  give  of  Jefus  Chrift,  his  moral  character, 
his  doctrines  and  laws,  his  promifes,  difcoveries,  and 
his  fate,  be  coniiftent  with  itfelf :  whether  his  repre- 
fentations  of  God  accord  with  our  natural  apprehen- 
fions  of  the  fupreme  being  :  whether  his  delineations 
of  duty  confifl  with  our  internal  fenfe  of  right  and 
wrong :  whether, in  a  word,  the  actions  and  difcourfes, 
afcribed  to  the  blefled  Jefus,  appear  to  be  worthy  of 
fo  exalted  a  character.  Thefe  are  points  of  infinite 
importance  ;  and  they  very  properly  come  before 
reafon.     It  is  her  bufmefs  to  view  the  fubjed  on  all 

fides. 


96  OFflCE    OF    REASON  [[SeRM.  VlII. 

fides.     And  it  is  her  decifion  that  fiiould  determine 
tis  to  reject  the  koran,  and  ennbrace  the  gofpel. 

Another  argument  in  favour  of  Chriftianity  is 
derived  from  the  accomplifliment  of  prophecy.  To 
determine  the  ftrength  of  this  argument,  is  likewife 
the  province  of  reafon  :  that  is,  we  muft  make  ufe  of 
our  underftanding  to  felccl  the  predidions,  which 
are  fuppofed  to  refer  to  Jefus  Chrift,  and  to  fee 
whether  the  reference  be  juft.  Thus  did  the  noble 
Bereans,  and  they  are  commended  for  fo  doing.  For 
their  own  fatisfa6lion,  they  fearched  the  fcriptures  : 
they  reviewed  the  prophecies,  which  had  been  pro- 
duced by  the  apoftles.  With  them  they  compared 
the  accounts,  which  they  had  received  refpeding  Je- 
fus Chrift ;  and  they  examined  carefully  and  critic- 
ally, whether  there  was  a  correfpondence  of  the  pre- 
diction and  event.  This  was  making  a  proper  ufe  of 
their  rational  powers  :  they  behaved  like  wife  men  5 
and  their  example  is  a  rule  for  all. 

Again — Chriftianity  refts  on  the  evidence  of  mira- 
cles. It  is  the  office  of  reafon  to  examine  the  nature 
of  thofe  miracles  ;  their  more  immediate  occafion  j 
the  circumftances  attending  them  ;  their  impreffion 
on  the  fpectators  ;  and  to  afcertain  the  precife  weight 
of  evidence  arifing  from  this  fource.  Unlefs  we  have 
recourfe  to  reafon  in  this  cafe,  how  are  we  to  diftin- 
guifh  the  wonderful  works,  which  are  produced  in 
atteftation  of  the  gofpel,  from  the  tricks  of  an  impof- 
tor.  Many  perfons  have  arrogated  to  themfelves  the 
power  of  working  miracles.  The  magicians  of  old 
pretended  to  this  power  ;  and  if  we  may  believe  the 
Romanifts,  miracles  are  daily  wrought  by  members 
£>f  their  communion.  According  to  accounts  pub- 
lilhed  in  catholic  countries,  we  lliould  fuppofe  that 
fcarcely  any  law  of  nature  was  left  to  its  proper  and 

ufual 


SeRM,  VIII.]  IN     RELIGION.  57 

iifual  operation.  In  modern  Rome,  the  dead  are 
raifed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  lame  walk,  devils  are  caft 
out,  and  the  moft  alloniftiing  cm'es  are  effeded,  by 
the  reliques  of  fome  defpicable  vagabond,  who  had 
been  a  burden  to  fociety  whilft  living,  and  who  died 
like  a  brute.  I  Vv^ould  now  alk,  upon  what  principle 
we  reject  thefe  miracles,  whilft  we  admit  thofe  re- 
corded in  the  new-teftament  ?  The  anfwer  is  plain  ; 
brinG-ino:  both  to  the  trial  of  fober  reafon,  we  find  an 
cffential  difference.  The  miracles  performied  by  our 
Saviour  and  his  apoftles,  were  of  the  moft  important 
kind  ;  they  were  done  openly  ;  they  were  wrought 
in  the  prefence  of  perfons,  who  were  both  able  and 
difpofed  to  detect  the  impofition,  had  there  been  any 
in  the  cafe  ;  and  they  were  difplayed,  not  for  the 
purpofes  of  private  gain  or  popularity,  but  to  con- 
vince unbelievers.  Very  unlike  thefe  have  been,  all 
fucceeding  miracles,  particularly  thofe  faid  to  be  ex- 
hibited at  the  prefent  day.  They  have  been  done  in  a 
corner.  On  the  moft  trivial  occalions  they  have 
been  difplayed.  The  fpeftators  of  them  have  been, 
not  thofe  who  needed  conviction,  but  fuch  as  already 
believed.  And  they  have  been  attefted  by  perfons, 
whofe  intereft  it  was  to  keep  up  the  farce.  Such 
are  the  difcoveries  made  by  reafon,  when  exercifed 
on  this  fubject.  Is  it  not  then,  a  mark  of  the  utmoft 
Weaknefs  to  undervalue  this  faculty  ?  Is  it  not  mani- 
feftly  wrong  to  exclude  it  from  the  concerns  of  reli- 
p-ion  f    Do  v/e  not  lliake  the  foundations  of  the  chrif- 

o 

tian  faith,  in  proportion  as  we  afcribe  weaknefs  and 

error  to  the  hum.an  underftanding  ? 
-''  If  reafon  be  an  uncertain  guide,  its  authority  fuf- 
•picious,  and  its  province  far  remote  from  religious 
speculations,  then,  among  all  the  religions,  ^which  pre- 
^^ail  in  the  world,  no  man  could  have  any  juft  ground 
•r'::  ts[  ©f 


98  OFFICE    OF    REASON  [SeAM.  VIlL 

of  preference.  Whether  he  were  a  Jew,  Pagan,  Ma- 
hometan, or  Chriftian,  he  would  ad  with  equal  wis- 
dom. But  the  cafe  would  be  far  otherwife,  might 
reafon  be  called  in.  The  different  religions  in  the 
world  being  fubmitted  to  the  fober  examination  of 
this  faculty,  he  might,  with  great  propriety,  make  a 
choice  among  them  ;  and  might  juilify  his  choice  by 
convincing  arguments.  Becaufe  reafon  pointed  out 
its  impiety  and  abfurdity,  he  might  rejed  Paganifm. 
Becaufe  the  fame  divine  records,  which  furnifli  the 
origin  of  Judaifm,  furnifli  reafons  to  fuppofe  that  it 
is  fuperfeded  by  Chriftianity,  he  might  reject  the  Mo- 
faic  inftitution.  And  he  might  be  led  to  prefer  the 
gofpel  to  the  koran,  by  comparing  the  refpedive  char-* 
afters  of  Jefus  and  Mahomet  ;  the  doctrines,  which 
they  taught  ;  the  rules,  which  they  prefcribed  ;  and 
the  meafures,  to  which  they  had  recourfe,  in  order 
to  propagate  their  religions.  In  this  manner  would 
reafon  come  to  the  aid  of  truth  ;  and  fo  far  from  be- 
ing hoftile  to  the  chriftian  faith,  it  would  furnifli  the 
only  fure  and  ftable  foundation  for  believing. 

What  I  have  faid  on  this  head  will  fufficiently 
fliow  the  ufe  of  reafon  in  difcovering  the  eflential 
marks  of  a  divine  revelation,  and  the  evidence  necef- 
fary  to  fupport  it :  and  it  is  the  bufmefs  of  every  one 
to  exercife  his  underftanding  on  this  fubject.  This 
faculty  was  beftowed  upon  us  for  wife  and  benevo- 
lent purpofes.  "  The  fpirit  of  man  is  the  candle  of 
the  Lord  j"  and  if  we  keep  this  light  trimmed  and 
burning,  we  fiiall  make  a  juft  return  to  God,  from 
whom  we  received  it,  and  we  fliall  do  honour  to  our- 
felves.  Its  friendly  rays  will  preferve  us  from  enthu- 
fiafm  on  the  one  hand,  and  infidelity  on  the  other  : 
and  we  fiiall  never  want  a  fubftantial  reafon  for  the 
faith  which  is  in  us,  fo  long  as  we  receive  the  gofpel 

with 


SeRM.  VIII.]  IN    RELIGION.  55 

with  the  temper  of  wife  men,  and  calmly  examine 
its  evidence. 

But  further — It  is  the  office  of  reafon  not  only 
to  examine  the  grounds,  on  which  divine  revelation 
claims  our  affent,  but  alfo  to  judge  of  its  fenfe.  How 
are  we  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  gofpel,  but  by 
the  exercife  of  our  underftandings  ?  A  book  is  put 
into  our  hands,  containing  many  important  doctrines, 
many  ufefui  precepts,  many  interefling  difcoveries  : 
it  is  written  in  an  ancient  language  ;  and  has  many 
allufions  to  ancient  cuftoms  and  ufages.  The  -ftyle  of 
this  book  is  alfo,  in  many  places,  highly  figurative  ; 
and  it  contains  principles,  fome  of  which  are  capable 
of  a  general  application,  and  others  peculiar  to  the 
age,  in  which  the  volume  was  compofed.  Into  what 
abfurdities  then,  muft  every  one  fall,  who  repairs  to 
the  facred  fcriptures,  without  taking  reafon  with  him 
as  a  guide. 

In  the  firft  place,  he  muft  run  into  endlefs  errors, 
in  refpect  to  the  doctrines  of  revelation.  Many  of 
thofe  doctrines  are  exprefled  in  figurative  terms. 
Some,  which  relate  to  God  ;  fome,  which  relate  to 
Jefus  Chrift  ;  fome,  which  refpecl  futurity,  are  con- 
ceived in  terms,  which,  though  perfectly  agreeable  to 
the  genius  of  the  oriental  languages,  appear  almoft 
extravagant  to  a  modern  ear.  I  would  now  alk, 
what  would  not  a  man  receive  as  divine  truth,  who 
fhould  refufe  to  liften  to  reafon,  and  fliould  rejedt 
her  comments  upon  thefe  paflages  ?  What  enthufi- 
aftic  principles  would  he  not  find  in  his  bible  ?  What 
wild  extravagances  would  he  not  build  on  a  per- 
verted fcripture  ? 

In  regard  to  God,  he  would  afcribe  to  that  infin- 
itely pure  and  amiable  being,  both  human  parts,  and 
human  paffions.    For  we  read  of  the  eyes,  the  face, 

the 


rCfO  Ol-FICE    OF    REASON  [SeRM.  VIIL 

the  ears,  the  voice,  and  the  hand  of  God  :  we  read 
of  his  wrath,  his  pity,  his  grief,  and  his  repentings. 
Sometimes  God  is  ftyled  love,  fometimes  light,  and 
fometimes  a  confuming  fire.  Thefe  exprelTions  can 
miflead  none,  who  exercife  their  reafon.  That  fpirit^ 
which  is  in  man,  will  always  help  him  to  the  true 
fenfe  of  thefe  paflages  :  and  he,  v/ho  makes  a  proper 
life  of  his  underftanding,  will  infer  nothing  from 
them,  which  is  not  ftridly  applicable  to  the  diyine 
character. 

t'>  Again— -Jefus  Chrift  is  often  defcrlbed  in  language 
as  highly  figurative.  He  fays  of  himfelf,  "  I  am  the 
vine  }  I  am  the  door  ;  I  am  the  good  fliepherd  ; 
I  am  the  refurredion,  and  the  life  ;  I  am  the  way, 
and  the  truth  ;  I  am  the  Hght  of  the  world.'*  And 
his  apoftles  ftyle  him  "  a  lamb,  a  rock,  the  day-ftar," 
and  the  like.  Strong  and  bold  as  thefe  figures  are, 
they  lead  us  into  no  miftake  refpecling  the  author  of 
our  falvation.  Reafon  diftates  in  what  manner  they 
are  to  be  underflood  and  applied. 

But,  rejecting  reafon,  fliould  we  interpret  thefe 
expreflions  literally,  how  fliould  we  diflionour  Jefus 
Chrift,  and  difgrace  revelation  ?  What  abfurdities 
fhould  we  impute  to  the  chriftian  fyftem  ?  And  how 
Ihould  we  infult  and  difguft  the  common  fenfe  of 
mankind  ?  The  confcquences  of  refufing  reafon  its 
authority,  in  thefe  cafes,  will  be  manifeft,  if  we  only 
advert  to  one  article  in  the  Romifli  creed.  The  fame 
night,  in  which  our  Saviour  was  betrayed,  we  read, 
that  "he  took  bread,  brake  it,  and  faid,  this  is  my 
body."  Thefe  words,  the  Romanifts  fay,  fliould  be 
literally  taken.  Accordingly,  whilft  our  Saviour  was 
alive,  and  familiarly  converiing  with  his  difciplcs,  he 
took  his  own  body  and  brake  it :  and  that  very  fame 
body  is  alfo  qffered  Tip  in  the  facrifice  of  the  mafs ; 

and  I 


SeRM.  VIII.]  IN     RELIGION.  ^01 

and  received  by  the  faithful  as  often  as  they  com- 
mune. That  is,  a  compofition,  which  is  nothing 
more  than  bread  to  the  eyes,  to  the  touch,  and  to 
the  tafte,  is  the  real  body  of  our  Saviour  1  But  when 
you  plead  the  teftimony  of  fenfe,  they  plead  the  ex- 
cellency of  faith.  And  when  you  have  recourfe  to 
reafoHi  they  reply,  that  it  has  no  proper  concern  with 
myftery.  So  grofsly  is  the  fcripture  perverted,  by 
refufing  to  natural  reafon  its  proper  office. 

But  the  doctrines  of  revelation  are  not  the  only- 
points,  upon  which  the  underflanding  lliould  be  em- 
ployed. We  muft  call  in  the  aid  of  reafon,  in  order 
to  afcertain  the  meaning  of  its  precepts.  Some  of 
the  rules,  which  we  find  in  the  new-teftament,  do 
not  bind  the  prefent  age,  Others  are  of  eternal  ob- 
ligation. Some  are  conveyed  in  figurative,  others  in 
plain  language.  How  then  are  we  to  diftingulfii,  but 
by  the  fober  exercife  of  the  underflanding  ?  Our  Sar 
viour  directs,  "  if  fmote  on  one  cheek,  to  turn  the 
other."  Reafon  tells  us,  that  this  is  a  figurative  ex- 
preffion,  and  that  it  means  nothing  more,  than  that 
there  are  times,  when  it  would  be  more  prudent, 
more  poHtic,  more  amiable,  and,  in  every  view, 
better,  to  fubmit  to  the  repetition  of  an  injury,  than 
to  have  recourfe,  even  to  legal  meafures,  in  order  to 
obtain  redrefs.  Again  ;  our  Saviour,  in  a  manner, 
directs  us  "  to  hate  our  father,  mother,  v/ife,  and 
children  ;"  reafon  tells  us,  that  fi:rong  as  thefe  ex- 
preffions  may  feem,  they  can  imply  no  more  than 
that  we  fhould  love  our  earthly  connections  in  a  leis 
degree  than  we  love  our  Redeemer.  Again  ;  the 
apoftle  Paul  recommends  the  moft  paffive  fubmifilon 
to  the  civil  authority.  When  we  reflect  on  the  fub- 
ject,  we  infi:antly  perceive,  that  the  peculiar  circum- 
itances  of  Chriftianity,  and  the  delicate  fituation  of 

its. 


102  OFFICE    OF     REASON  [SeRM.  VIII. 

its  early  profeflbrs,  demanded  of  them  paffive  obe- 
dience, and  non-refiftance.  But  as  circumftances 
have  effentialiy  changed,  reafon  helps  us  to  an  in- 
terpretation of  this  precept  more  favourable  to  the 
rights  and  happinefs  of  mankind.  Again  ;  upon  the 
fubject  of  drefs,  marriage,  and  the  ufe  of  meats,  the 
fame  apoftle  delivers  many  fentiments,  which,  though 
pertinent  at  his  day,  do  not  apply  to  ours.  Reafon 
tells  us  to  coniider  fuch  directions  as  particular  rules, 
which  ought  to  be  regarded,  rather  as  articles  of 
hiftory,  than  matters  of  practice. 

From  the  inftances  now  produced,  we  mull  be  con- 
vinced of  the  ufe  and  offices  of  reafon,  in  our  reli- 
gious fpeculations.  The  Son  of  God  addreffes  us  as 
rational  beings,  and  we  fhould  judge  what  he  fays  : 
we  fliould  employ  our  reafoning  faculty  upon  the  evi- 
dences of  his  miffion  :  we  fhould  have  recourfe  to  it, 
in  order  to  afcertain  what  he  has  taught ;  and  what 
he  would  have  us  to  do.  In  ftating  the  motives  of  re- 
ligion, we  ftiQuld  make  ufe  of  our  underftandings  : 
by  their  aid,  and  under  their  diredion,  we  Ihould 
feparate  figures  from  plain  fpeech  :  we  fhould  com- 
pare prefent  and  paft  times  ;  fhould  contraft  modern 
and  ancient  cuftoms ;  and  ihould  compare  fcripture 
v/ith  fcripture.  This  is  our  duty  ;  and  to  difcharge 
this  duty,  our  reafon  muft  be  fet  to  work. 

Let  me  then,  exhort  all,  who  are  indulged  with 
this  faculty,  always  to  bring  it  with  them  to  the  ftudy 
of  relio-ion.  A  rational  Chriftian  is  the  moft  exalted 
character  that  any  human  being  can  fuftain.  To 
jknow  what  we  believe,  and  upon  what  grounds  we 
yield  our  affent :  to  be  able  to  give  a  reafon  why  we 
are  Chriftians,  rather  than  Jews,  Mahometans,  or 
Heathens  :  and  to  be  furniftied  with  a  ready  anfwer  to 
thafe,  who  may  inquire  why  we  are  of  this  religious 

denomination. 


SeRM.  VIII.]  IN    RELIGION.  lO^ 

denomination,  rather  than  any  other  ;  thefe  certainly 
are  moft  defirable  attainments.  And  to  be  able  thus 
far  to  juftify  his  religious  peculiarities,  every  man 
ought  to  be  ambitious. 

Be  perfuaded  then,  to  read,  examine,  and  reflect. 
Under  this  impreffion,  that  faith  and  reafon  cannot 
be  at  variance,  make  all  pollible  ufe  of  the  latter,  in 
order  to  fettle  the  grounds  of  the  former.  Always 
regard  the  gofpel  as  a  reafonable  inftitution  ;  and  your 
duty  as  a  reafonable  fervice.  Prove  all  things  :  ex- 
amine all  opinions  :  and  compare  all  parts  of  the  fa- 
cred  volume.  Whatever  you  hear,  like  the  juftly 
commended  Bereans,  fearch  the  fcriptures ;  and  fee 
whether  they  fpeak  the  fame  language.  In  a  word,  as 
Chriftians,  and  in  underftanding,  be  men.  Thus  fo- 
ber  and  inquifitive,  you  may  exped  a  divine  blefling. 
The  good  fpirit  of  God  will  enable  you  to  judge 
rightly.  Your  ideas  of  the  fupreme  being,  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  and  the  gofpel  falvation,  will  do  honour  to 
your  underftandings,  and  your  temper  and  lives  will 
do  honour  to  your  hearts.  Your  religion  will  be  of 
that  rational  caft,  which  all,  who  reflect,  muft  admire. 
Inftead  of  bewildering  yourfelves  with  myfteries,  you 
will  modeftly  difmifs  what  you  cannot  comprehend. 
And  inftead  of  placing  your  religion  in  rites  and 
forms,  it  will  be  your  principal  concern  to  "  do  juftly, 
to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  God." — 
Such  will  be  the  happy  confequences  of  applying  to 
yourfelves  thofe  words  of  the  apoftle  :  "I  fpeak  as 
to  wife  men  :  judge  ye  what  I  fay." 


.-— M««d|<^^l®»««W*- 


sermon 


104  BENEFICIAL    EFFECTS  [SeRM.  IX. 

pennon  ix. 


Beneficial  Effefls  of  Chriftianlty. 

Psalm  lxxii.  7. 

"  IN  HIS  DAVS  shall  the  RIGHTEOUS  FLOURISH  ; 
AND  ABUNDANCE  OF  PEACE,  SO  LONG  AS  THE 
MODN    ENDUE.ETH." 

AS  thefc  words  have  been  often  applied  to  the 
reign  of  our  blefi'ed  Saviour,  and  the  moral  in- 
fluence of  his  religion,  I  Ihall  offer  no  apology  for 
making  them  the  introduction  to  the  following  dif- 
courfe.  It  is  true,  commentators  have  not  unani- 
moully  agreed  in  this  application  :  fome  have  reftricl- 
ed  the  words  to  Solomon  ;  and  have  fuppofed,  that  the 
bleflings  of  his  reign  were  here  pointed  out.  Others 
have  inlifted,  that  a  greater  than  Solomon  exifted  in 
the  imagination  of  the  infpired  poet ;  and  that  the 
predidlion  was  not  accompliflied,  till  Chrift  came  in- 
to the  world.  To  purfue  this  controverfy,  and  ex- 
hibit the  arguments  on  both  fides  of  the  queftion, 
would  divert  our  thoughts  from  a  more  important 
object.  It  is  fufficient  to  fay, that  the  application  of  the 
w^ords  before  us,  to  the  author  of  our  religion,  is 
fupported  by  many,  and  very  refpeclable  authorities. 
Thus  applied,  the  following  defcription  has  inimitable 
beauty  :  "  The  mountains  fhall  bring  peace  to  the 
people,  and  the  little  hills  by  righteoufnefs.  lie  fliall 
come  down  like  rain  upon  the  mown  grafs  ;  as 
Ihowers  that  water  the  earth.  In  his  days  fliall  the 
righteous  flourifh,  and  abundance  of  peace,  fo  long 

as 


SeRM.  IX J  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  lOf 

as  the  moon  endureth.  He  fliall  have  dominion  alfo 
from  fea  to  fea,  and  from  the  river  unto  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  They  that  dwell  in  the  wildernefs  fhall 
bow  before  him,  and  his  enemies  lliall  lick  the  duft." 
The  fcenes,  unfolded  in  this  prediction,  mull  delight 
all,  who  know  the  value  of  true  religion,  and  are 
convinced  of  its  beneficial  influence  on  fociety. 

My  dengn,  in  the  following  difcourfe,  is  to  con- 
iider  the  bleiTmgs  communicated  to  mankind  by  the 
introduction  of  Chriftianity.  The  queftion  has  often 
been  alked,  whether  fociety,  on  the  whole,  has  been 
benefited  by  the  gofpel ;  whether  the  human  kind  are 
wifer,  better,  and  happier,  than  in  former  ages  ;  and 
whether,  if  their  character  and  condition  be,  in  any 
refped,  improved,  Chriftianity  had  any  influence  in 
producing  fo  defirable  an  event  ?  That  fociety  is 
under  no  obligations  to  the  gofpel,  its  enemies  have 
endeavoured  to  prove  by  a  variety  of  arguments. 
The  confufions  attending  its  introdudion,  they  have 
particularly  urged.  They  have  taken  notice  of  reli- 
gious wars  ;  and  the  cruelties,  which  contending  feds 
have  mutually  inflicted  on  each  other.  They  have 
likewife  held  up  to  the  terrified  imagination  of  pro- 
teftants,  that  hellifti  tribunal,  called  the  inquifition. 
They  have  alfo  adverted  to  the  memorable  period, 
when  millions,  of  all  defcriptions,  took  up  arms,  in 
order  to  recover  the  holy  land  from  infidels ;  and 
have  obferved,  that  mifery,  deftruction,  and  wicked- 
nefs,  marked  their  progrefs.  Finally,  they  have  en- 
larged on  the  various  arts  of  hypocrify,  pradifed  un- 
der the  maik  of  religion,  and  the  numerous  impofi- 
tionsj'of  which  Chriftianity  has  been  the  pretence. 
And  combining  all  circumftances,  they  have  drawn 
the  conclufion,  that  former  ages,  without  the  gofpel, 
were  happier  tlian  fucceeding  ages  with  it.  If  this 
O  were 


Io6  BENEFICIAL    EFFECTS  [SeRM.  \X^ 

were  a  true  reprefentation  of  fads,  it  would  flrange- 
ly  militate  with  the  prophetick  dcfcriptions  of  the 
gofpel,  and  of  the  bleiriiigs,  which  it  would  enfure  to 
mankind.  Rapt  into  future  times,  Ifaiah  had  an- 
nounced the  Saviour  in  the  following  ftrains  :  "  Of 
the  increafe  of  his  government  and  peace,  there  fliall 
be  no  end,  upon  the  throne  of  David,  and  upon  his 
kingdom,  to  order  it,  and  to  eflabiiih  it  with  judg- 
ment, and  with  juftice,  from  henceforth  even  for- 
ever/* A  fentiment  not  unlike  this,  was  alfo  utter- 
ed by  Zacharias  :  "  Whereby  the  day-fpring  from 
on  high  hath  vifited  us,  to  give  light  to  them,  who^ 
lit  in  darknefs,  and  in  the  liiadow  of  death,  to  guide 
our  feet  in  the  way  of  peace."  This  reprefentation 
of  the  gofpel  was  not  long  after  confirmed  by  the 
heavenly  hoft,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  higheft,  on 
earth  peace,  good  will  to  men."  What  conftru(flion 
fliall  be  put  on  thefe  words,  if  the  chriftian  religion 
has  been  fo  unfriendly  to  the  world  as  its  enemies 
have  pretended  ?  Surely,  fuch  an  account  of  things 
will  remain  forever  irreconcilable  with  the  prediction 
in  the  text, "  in  his  days  fliall  the  righteous  flourifli  j 
and  abundance  of  peace,  fo  long  as  the  moon  en- 
4ureth." 

That  certain  evils  attended  the  introduclion  o£ 
the  gofpel,  cannot  be  denied.  The  contefts  and  di- 
vifions,  which  it  would  produce  in  families,  were 
both  forefeen  and  foretold  by  our  Saviour.  He  de- 
clared that  the  fon  would  be  at  variance  with  the 
father  ;  the  daughter,  with  the  mother  j  and  the- 
daughter-in-law,  with  the  mother-in-law.  But  fure* 
ly,  Chriftianity  is  not  anfwerable  for  thefe  excefles. 
The  aggreffors,  in  this  inftance,  were  perfons,  who 
neither  believed  its  truth,  nor  felt  its  influence.  In 
families  truly  chriflian,  there  are  no  domeftic  divi^ 

lions,. 


SeRM.  IX.]  of   CHRISTIANITY.  I07 

lions.  Mutual  forbearance  and  love  ars  unfailing 
qualities  in  all,  whofe  charadlers  are  formed  on  the 
principles  of  the  gofpel.  Say  not  then,  that  the  re- 
ligion of  jefus  caufed  the  brother  to  deliver  up  the 
brother  to  death  ;  the  father,  the  child  ;  and  the 
children,  their  parents  :  but  fay,  that  the  corrupt 
paffions  of  the  human  heart  produced  thefe  hoirid 
a6:s  of  violence. 

And  the  fame  remark  may  be  made  in  refpeft  td 
other  mifchiefs  unjuftly  afcribed  to  Chriftianity. 
That  feels,  denominated  chriftian,  have  perfecuted 
each  other,  is  an  eftablifhed  fact.  But  they  found 
no  direction  to  perfecute  in  the  gofpel.  So  far  froitl 
it,  they  could  not  confult  that  benevolent  inftitution^ 
without  finding  that  it  reprobated  violence,  and  en- 
joined, in  the  ftrongeft  terms,  forbearance  and  love. 
If  the  fecret  fprings  of  action  could  be  laid  open,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  it  would  clearly  appear,  that 
itioft  religious  perfecutions  originated  in  political 
caufes.  The  monarchs  and  princes  of  this  world 
have  often  drawn  religion  into  their  controverfies  ; 
and  have  made  ufe  of  its  venerable  name  to  give  a 
fandion  to  their  ambition.  And  in  numberlefs  in- 
ftances,  vv^orldly  interefl  has  been  the  motive  to  per- 
fecute, and  Chriftianity  only  the  pretence.  We  are 
not  then,  to  fuppofe,  that  fevv'^er  a6ts  of  violence 
would  have  been  committed,  if  the  religion  of  the 
gofpel  had  not  been  introduced,  but  that  the  dif- 
turbers  of  mankind  muft  have  invented  fome  other 
excufe.  Never  was  more  blood  wantonly  flied  ; 
never  were  the  laws  of  juftice  and  humanity  more 
fliamefully  violated,  than  in  ages  preceding  that  of 
our  Saviour.  We  may,  therefore,  conclude,  that 
human  pailions  would  have  continued  to  operate, 
even  if  no  change  had  been  made  in  the  religion  of 
the  world.  But 


lot  BENEFICIAL    EFFECTS  [SeRM.  IX, 

But,  to  come  more  diredly  to  the  point,  in  what 
refpe<5ls  has  Chriftianity  meliorated  the  condition  of 
mankind  ?  What  are  its  prefent  benefits  ?  How  far 
have  the  morals  of  the  world  been  mended  by  it  ? 
And  to  what  degree  has  it  increafed  the  fam  of  hur 
man  happinefs  ?  In  forming  an  anfwcr  to  thefe  quefr 
tions,  we  labour  under  great  difadvantages.  And 
perhaps,  it  is  impoflible  to  anfwer  them  to  univerfal 
fatisfadion.  The  hiftories,  which  have  comi?  down 
to  us,  will  throw  but  very  little  light  on  this  fubjeft. 
They  relate  the  wars,  which  have  ravaged  devoted 
portions  of  the  globe  ;  and  the  political  revolutions, 
"which  have  changed  the  face  of  fociety.  They  de- 
fcribc  the  exploits  of  heroes,  and  the  arts  of  ftatefr 
men.  Or,  if  they  take  notice  of  religion,  it  is  in  fo 
general  a  way,  as  to  furnilli  no  ailiftance  in  the  in- 
quiry before  us.  Even  eccleiiaftical  hiftory  will  not 
enable  us  tq  trace  the  moral  influence  of  religion  in 
thofe  periods,  of  which  it  treats.  We  may  learn 
from  it,  who  prcfided  in  the  church  ;  what  rites 
were  obferved  ;  what  doctrines  were  taught  ;  what 
errors  fprang  up  ;  how  they  were  corrected  ;  what 
inllruments  were  employed  to  fpread  the  knowledge 
of  the  chriftian  fyftem  ;  how  they  fucceedi^d  ;  and 
who  fuffercd  for  the  truth.  But  to  know  how  much 
good  the  religion  of  Jefus  has  adually  done,  we  muft 
be  introduced  to  the  private  walks  of  life.  We  mull 
be  made  acquainted  with  perfons,  who  were  too  ob- 
fcurc  to  have  a  place  in  hiftory  ;  but  whofe  virtues 
will  caufe  them  to  fliine  with  diftinguiflied  glory  in 
the  heavenly  world. 

There  are  many  Chriftians,  even  at  this  age,  who 
have  the  caufe  of  religion  at  heart ;  and  who  live  by 
faith  in  the  Son  of  God.  They  are  good  parents, 
children,  friends,  and  neighbours,  becaufe  Chriftians 

ity 


SeRM.  IX.]  OV    CHRISTIANITY.  I  Of 

ity  binds  them  to  perform  the  duties  refulting  from 
thefe  feveral  relations.  In  obedience  to  the  gofpcl, 
they  are  ftriftly  honeft  in  their  dealings  ;  and  they 
are  difpofed  to  do  good  to  the  utmoft  of  their  abiHty. 
In  a  word,  they  are  habitually  devout,  humble, 
chafte,  temperate,  and,  in  all  refpecls,  exemplary, 
becaufe  the  precepts  of  Chrift  have  a  fteady  operation 
on  their  hearts  and  lives.  Such  perfons  there  now 
are  in  the  chriftian  world.  Many,  to  whom  this 
defcription  may  be  applied,  have,  fince  our  remem- 
brance, gone  off  the  ftage.  And  we  may  conclude, 
that  there  have  been  Chriftians,  both  in  principle  and 
pradice,  ever  fmce  the  firft  converts  were  made  by 
the  Son  of  God.  But  how  few  of  thofe,  whom  wc 
know  to  be  perfons  of  pure  and  undefiled  religion, 
would  find  a  place  in  the  page  of  hiftory  ?  Such  vir- 
tues as  piety,  charity,  honefly,  and  purity,  in  humble 
life,  are  not  recorded.  And  hence  the  difhculty  of 
meafuring  the  moral  influence  of  religion  ;  and  af- 
certaining  the  real  good,  which  it  has  done  to  man- 
kind. Had  the  recital  of  good  actions  been  as  en- 
tertaining as  that  of  great  ones  ;  and  had  hillory 
]been  as  faithful  to  the  merits  of  a  Chriftian,  as  to  the 
exploits  of  a  hero,  we  fliould  not  have  wanted  in^ 
formation  on  this  head. 

But  though  the  moral  effects  of  Chriftianity  have 
jiot  been  carefully  recorded,  yet  we  can  make  fome 
difcoveries,  which  refled  the  higheft  honour  on  the 
gofpel.  In  the  firft  place,  we  find,  that  wherever 
Chriftianity  prevailed,  it  put  an  end  to  human  fa- 
crifices.  The  horrid  practice  of  propitiating  the  gods 
by  immolating  human  beings,  prevailed  in  the  moft 
pvihzed  countries.  The  nations,  extirpated  by  the 
fword  of  Ifrael,  were  particularly  chargeable  with 
this  ferocious  fuperftition.     They  caufe4  their  fons 

and 


flO  BENEFICIxVL    EFFECTS  [SeRM.  IX- 

and  daughters  to  pafs  through  the  fire.  And  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  followed  their  example.  Not 
lefs  than  three  hundred  human  vi6tims  have  been 
offered  on  fome  great  occafions.  But  an  evil,  which 
philofophy  could  not  cure,  yielded  to  the  mild  and 
benevolent  influence  of  the  gofpel.  Chriflianity, 
wherever  it  came,  expofed  the  enormous  wickednefs 
of  '*  giving  the  lirft-born  for  any  tranfgrellion,  the 
fruit  of  the  body  for  the  fm  of  the  foul.**  And  as 
many  nations,  as  received  this  divine  religion,  de- 
fifled  from  a  practice  fo  unnatural  and  abominable. 
One  great  advantage  derived  to  fociety  from  the  in- 
troduction of  the  chriftian  fyftem,  was,  therefore, 
the  refcue  of  thoufands  of  the  human  fpecies  from 
the  flaughtering  prieft,  and  flaming  altar. 

Secondly — The  religion  of  Jefus,  wherever  it  ob- 
tained an  eftabiifhment,  put  an  end  to  the  cruel  prac- 
tice of  expoiing  gladiators  for  the  publick  entertain*, 
ment.  During  many  centuries,  the  eyes  of  the  mul- 
titude had  been  delighted  by  thefe  abominable  fcenes. 
Human  beings  were,  by  courfe  of  difcipline,  trans- 
formed to  brutes  ;  and,  when  fufficiently  infliruded 
in  the  art  of  giving  and  receiving  the  deadly  blow, 
they  were  brought  on  a  public  ftage,  that  the 
people  might  be  amufed  with  their  wounds  and 
death.  To  fpeclacles  fo  horrid  in  themfelves,  and 
fo  pernicious  in  their  tendency,  Chriftianity  oppofed 
its  facred  influence.  It  taught  men  to  turn  with 
abhorrence  from  every  violation  of  the  great  laws  of 
humanity.  As  religion  gained  ground,  the  practice, 
of  which  I  have  been  fpeaking,  lofl:  its  advocates  and 
admirers.  And  when  the  Roman  world  became 
Chriftian,  it  was  fupprefled  by  an  imperial  edi6t. 
The  protection  of  many  lives  from  wanton  defl:ruc- 
tion,  and  the  prefervation  of  the  human  mind  from 

the 


3eRM.  IX.3  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  HI 

the  debafing  influence  of  fanguinary  fpeclacles,  arc 
bleflings,  for  which  fociety  is  indebted  to  the  gofpel. 

Thirdly — Through  the  influence  of  the  chriftian 
religion,  the  expoling  of  infants  and  flaves  to  perifli 
with  hunger,  and  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beafts,  no 
longer  disgraces  the  human  character.  I  need  not 
inform  you,  that  this  was  univerfally  praclifed,  and 
without  fliame  or  remorfe,  before  Chriflianity  exhi- 
bited the  injuftice  of  refufmg  proteftion  to  fuch  mif- 
erable  objects.  Till  men  learned  from  the  gofpel  to 
fet  a  proper  value  on  human  life,  compafllon  was  fa- 
crificed  to  convenience.  But  no  fooner  did  the  rays 
of  divine  truth  enlighten  their  minds,  and  warm 
their  hearts,  than  the  feeble  infant  found  a  parent  ; 
and  the  flave,  exhaufted  with  labour  and  years,  found 
an  arm  to  fupport  him.  Millions  of  fuffering  ob- 
jecfls,  refcued  from  deftrudion,  furnifh,  therefore, 
another  triumph  to  Chriftianity. 

Fourthly — The  introdudion  of  this  mofl:  benev- 
olent religion,  has,  in  many  inllances,  foftened  the 
rigours  of  flavery.  It  was  not  uncommon,  in  ancient 
times,  to  treat  this  unhappy  clafs  of  perfons  w^ith 
the  mofl:  unjuftifiable  feverity.  Torture  and  death 
might  be  inflicted  by  their  inhuman  mafl:ers,  when- 
ever the  fufpicion  of  a  fault  ftimulated  their  rage. 
They  were  confidered  as  having  neither  rights  nor 
feelings,  even  in  free  countries,  and  by  men,  who 
fl:yled  themfelves  patrons  of  civil  liberty. 

But  in  every  family,  where  Chriftianity  found 
admiflion,  a  new  fcene  was  prefented.  The  diftance 
between  mafter  and  flave  was  leflened.  In  obedience 
to  the  gofpel,  the  former  ceafed  to  be  a  tyrant ;  and 
the  latter,  experiencing  kind  ufage,  had  new  motives 
to  be  faithful.  Nor  was  it  feldom  the  cafe,  that 
Chriftianity  gave  freedom  to  thofe,  who  had  been 

held 


112  BENEFICIAL    EFFECTS  [SeRM.  IX» 

held  in  bondage.  Many,  on  becoming  Chrillians,  fet 
their  ilaves  ^t  liberty,  efteeming  fuch  an  aft  of  gen- 
erofity  highly  pleafing  to  their  common  mafter, 
though  not  exprefsly  commanded  by  the  gofpel. 
Breaking  the  chains  of  fome,  and  enfuring  humane 
ufage  to  others,  the  chriftian  religion  has,  therefore, 
been  a  blefling  to  the  world. 

Fifthly- — Since  the  appearance  of  Our  divine  Sav- 
iour, vt'ar  has  been  productive  of  lefs  mifery  than  ia 
former  times.  It  is  true,  the  gofpel  has  not  exter- 
minated thofe  paflions,  whence  come  wars  and  fight- 
ings :  and  it  mull  likewife  be  acknowledged,  that, 
on  fome  occafions,  nations  denominated  chriftian, 
tave  contended  with  brutal  violence.  Certain  caufes 
have  confpired  to  inflame  the  paflions  to  a  high  de- 
gree, and  to  make  them  infenfible  of  the  obligations 
of  common  humanity.  But  hoftile  nations  do  not 
generally  ad  fo  ferocious  a  part.  A  vanquiflied  and 
fupplicating  foe  now  finds  mercy.  Prifoners  are  ex- 
changed, and  not  flaughtered  or  reduced  to  bondage. 
The  fame  captives  are  treated  with  kindnefs  and  re- 
fpecf,  who  would  once  have  been  led  in  chains  by  an 
infolent  conqueror.  Even  in  the  darkeft  ages  of 
Chriftianity,  and  when  its  principles  were  moft  cor- 
rupted, it  often  fet  bounds  to  the  ravages  of  the 
fword.  Though  it  has  not  caufed  wars  and  fightings 
to  ceafe,  yet,  if  it  has  rendered  them  lefs  calamitous, 
fociety  is  much  indebted  to  the  gofpel. 

Sixthly — Since  Chriftianity  has  enlightened  and 
warmed  the  human  breaft,  the  moft  benevolent  in- 
ftitutions  have  been  devifed  for  the  relief  of  thofe, 
who  are  objefts  of  compaflion.  Before  the  Son  of 
God  appeared,  thefe  inftitutions  were  unknown  in 
the  world.  Till  Chriftianity  taught  men  to  feel,  the 
unfortunate  debtor  was  chained  at  the  door  of  his 

creditor  ; 


SeRM.  IX]  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  II3 

creditor  ;  was  fcourged  at  pleafure  ;  Ins  wife  and 
children  were  expofed  to  fale  ;  and  he  was  fubjecled 
to  every  fpecies  of  inhumanity,  till  payment  Ihould 
be  made.  Till  Chriftianity  foftened  the  heart,  the 
poor  depended  on  the  contributions  of  a  precarious 
charity  ;  and  thofe,  who  fuffered  under  the  united 
burden  of  want  and  ficknefs,  had  no  other  refource 
but  in  the  goodnefs  of  thofe,  who  might  happen  to 
hear  their  groans,  and  be  touched  by  their  miferies. 
But  through  the  influence  of  Chriftianity,  they,  who 
once  fupplicated  mercy,  may  now  command  the  kind 
offices  of  their  neighbours.  The  rights  of  the  poor 
and  miferable  afe  afcertained  by  the  chriftian  relig- 
ion ;  and  fo  aftive  is  the  benevolence  excited  by  it, 
that  multitudes  are  comfortably  fupported,  who  muft 
otlierwife  have  perifhed*  The  kind  offices,  to  which 
Chriftianity  difpofed  its  profelTors,  were  early  ob- 
ferved  by  its  jealous  enemies  :  and  Julian,  one  of  the 
moft  virulent,  reludantly  propofed  their  example  to 
his  heathen  fubjects.  Having  taught  men  to  do 
good,  the  gofpel,  therefore,  has  rendered  eflential 
fervice  to  the  world. 

Finally — The  chriftian  relisfion  has  ferved  the 

o 

interefts  of  fociety,  by  branding  with  infamy  many 
pradiccs,  which  were  common  in  the  moft  polifiied 
ages,  but  which  were  a  fcandal  to  human  nature. 
The  ihocking  impurities  of  the  Heathen  are  often 
mentioned  in  the  gofpel.  Many  of  thofe  impurities, 
had  the  fanction  of  religion  :  for  this  reafon,  the  firft 
characters  in  fociety  gloried  in  their  ftiame.  But, 
though  unfubdued,  thofe  fleflily  lufts,  which  war 
againft  the  foul,  have  been  laid  under  fome  reftraint 
by  the  gofpel.  There  is  more  decency  in  the  world  ; 
and  the  rifing  generation  have  not  fo  many  vicious 
examples  before  their  eyes. 

P  I  HAVE 


114  BENEFICIAL    EFFECTS,  ^s'c.  [SeRM.  IX, 

I  HAVE  now  mentioned  fome  of  the  many  advan- 
tages derived  to  fociety  by  the  chriftian  reUgion.  I 
might  have  pointed  out  other  bleffings,  which  mufl 
be  referred  to  this  fource  ;  but  the  reprefentation, 
already  made,  muft  convince  us,  that  nations  enhght- 
ened  by  the  gofpel,  are  unfpeakably  wifer,  better,  and 
happier,  in  confequence  of  this  difpenfation.  And 
yet,  this  is  the  rehgion,  which  encountered  fo  many 
enemies,  v/hen  firft  offered  to  mankind.  This  is  the 
rehgion,  againft  v/hich  kings  fet  themfelves,  and 
rulers  took  counfel.  This  is  the  religion,  which  fo 
many,  in  early  times,  derided  and  vilified  j  and  to 
deftroy  which,  learning  and  eloquence  employed  their 
united  force.  This  is  the  religion,  which  fo  many, 
in  all  ages,  have  vainly  attempted  to  put  down  by 
argument,  or  to  injure  by  mifreprefentation.  This  is 
the  religion,  which  fome  are  difpofed  to  give  up, 
without  examination  ;  and  others,  from  want  of  re- 
fleflion,  neglect  and  defpife.  In  a  word,  this  is  the 
religion,  which  has  fo  few  independent,  zealous,  andj 
confident  profeiTors  ;  and  from  the  duties  of  which,] 
fo  m^any  are  difpofed  to  turn  afide  into  the  paths  oi 
licentioufnefs. 

But  a  religion,  which  has  the  patronage  of  heaven  J 
muft  rife  fuperior  to  its  enemies.  It  is  impoffiblej 
that  fuch  a  caufe  Ihould  not  prevail.  The  relleftingi 
part  of  mankind  muft  know,  that  Chriftianity  has! 
the  promife  of  the  life,  which  now  is,  and  of  that,! 
which  is  to  come.  And  they,  who  believe  its  truth  J 
and  are  fenfible  of  its  excellence,  muft  pray  that  its 
influence  may  be  univerfal.  Then  would  righteouf-i 
nefs  Hourifli ;  and  abundance  of  peace  blefs  mankind.] 
Then  would  opprelTion,  of  all  kinds,  come  to  an  end.j 
Then  would  the  judgments,  which  are  abroad  ini 
the  earth,  ceafe  forever.    Then  v/ould  all  the  friendly] 

anc 


SeRM.  X.l  KNOWLEDGE   OF   GOD.  H^ 

and  amiable  affedlons  of  the  human  heart  be  in  con- 
flant  exercife.  And  then  lliould  we  have  a  foretafte 
of  the  tranquillity  of  heaven,  and  of  the  love,  which 
will  unite  us,  when  conducted  by  Chrift  to  the  pref- 
once  of  his  father  and  our  father,  of  his  God  and 
our  God. 


Sermon  x. 


On  the  Knowledge  of  God. 
Romans  i.  28,  29. 

**  AND  EVEN  AS  THEY.  DID  NOT  LIKE  TO  RETAIN 
GOD  IN  THEIR  KNOWLEDGE,  GOD  GAVE  THEM  OVER. 
TO  A  REPROBATE  MIND,  TO  DO  THOSE  THINGS 
WHICH  ARE  NOT  CONVENIENT  J  BEING  FILLED 
WITH    ALL    UNRIGHTEOUSNESS." 

THE  ftate  of  morals  in  the  heathen  world  de- 
ferves  the  ferious  attention  of  all,  who  are  fa- 
voured with  the  gofpel.  It  has  been  pretended,  by 
the  enemies  of  revelation,  that  pagan  principles,  and 
pagan  ceremonies,  were  not  unfavourable  to  human 
virtue.  It  has  been  confidently  afferted,  that  true 
piety  often  prefented  itfelf  before  the  heathen  altar  ; 
and  that  heathen  feftivals  were  fcenes  of  innocence 
and  cheerfulnefs.  That  this  is  a  grofs  mifreprefenta- 
tion  of  fads,  will  be  acknowledged  by  all,  who  have 
turned  their  attention  towards  this  fubject.  They 
will  perceive,  that  the  fpecious  colouring,  which  has 
been  given   to  the  principles  and  practices  of  the 

heathen 


Il6  KNOWLEDGE  f SeRM.  X# 

heathen  world,  is  only  one  of  the  many  arts  em- 
ployed to  injure  Chriftianity.  Nor  can  it  be  denied, 
that  infidelity  would  have  fome  ground  of  exulta- 
tion, if  it  could  be  proved  that  the  gofpel,  when  firft 
publiflied,  did  not  make  men  wifer  and  better  than 
it  found  them  ;  and  that  its  influence,  in  fucceeding 
ages,  has  not  effentially  mended  and  purified  the 
human  charader. 

Facts,  however,  will  not  permit  us  to  view  Chrif- 
tianity in  this  unfavourable  light.  That  hitherto, 
its  influence  has  been  partial,  and  its  efFeds  inade- 
quate to  its  intrinfick  excellency,  is  a  melancholy 
truth.  No  impartial  Chriftian  will  pretend,  that  the 
gofpel  has  gained  fuch  a  vi<51;ory  over  ignorance  and 
wickednefs,  fuperftition  and  impiety,  as  might  have 
been  expecled  from  the  union  of  its  peculiar  doc- 
trines, precepts,  and  motives.  Still  it  has  conferred 
unfpeakable  benefits  on  fociety.  It  has  made  men 
afliamed  of  pradices,  which  were  common  among 
the  Heathen.  And  it  has  impofed  fome  reftraint  on 
pallions,  which  raged  without  control,  before  Chrif- 
tianity pointed  out  their  infamy  here,  and  the  ruin, 
which  would  attend  them  hereafter.  By  an  induc- 
tion of  particulars,  it  might  be  proved,  that  fmcc  the 
promulgation  of  the  gofpel,  there  is,  in  the  world, 
far  more  real  piety,  more  juftice,  more  chaftity,  more 
benevolence,  more  temperance,  and  more  rational 
happinefs,  than  in  any  preceding  period. 

Such  important  bleflings  being  derived  from  Chrif- 
tianity, we  cannot  wonder  that  the  apoftle  ffiould 
declare,  that  he  was  not  afhamed  of  the  gofpel  ;  and 
that  he  fhould  profefs  his  readinefs  to  preach  it  in 
the  metropolis  of  the  Roman  empire.  He  well  knew 
the  ftate  of  morals,  both  among  the  Jews  and  Gen- 
tiles, of  his  own  age.     He  was  fenfible,  how  far  the 

former 


SeRM.  X.3  OF    GOD.  11^ 

former  had  departed  from  the  Inflitutions  of  Mofes  : 
and  his  intimacy  with  the  latter,  had  given  him  an 
opportunity  to  obferve,  how  little  regard  was  paid 
to  the  laws  of  nature,  by  thofe,  who  had  no  other 
rule  of  moral  adion. 

The  chapter,  whence  I  have  taken  the  text,  places 
this  fubjecl  in  a  very  afFecling  light.  Having  ob- 
ferved,  that  God  had  difcovered  himfelf  to  the  Hea- 
then, in  the  works  of  nature,  and  difpenfations  of 
providence,  he  proceeds  to  charge  them  with  ingrat- 
itude and  folly,  in  difregarding  thefe  convincing 
proofs  of  his  eternal  power  and  godhead.  He  re^ 
marks,  that  "  profeffing  to  be  wife,  they  had  become 
fools."  And  as  a  proof  of  it,  he  mentions  their 
"  changing  the  glory  of  the  incorruptible  God  into 
an  image  made  like  to  corruptible  man,  and  to  birds, 
and  four-footed  beafts,  and  creeping  things."  In  re- 
fentment  of  fuch  an  indignity  to  himfelf,  and  fuch 
an  abufe  of  their  own  reafon,  the  apoftle  declares, 
that  God  abandoned  them  to  the  vileft  affections. 
He  then  mentions  their  particular  crimes  ;  and  they 
were  fuch  as  indicated  the  moft  degraded  ftate  of 
mind,  being  an  offence  againft  decency,  againft  na- 
ture, and  the  acknowledged  principles  of  common 
morality.  The  text  follows  ;  "  And  even  as  they 
did  not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,  God 
gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  to  do  thofe 
things  which  are  not  convenient  ;  being  filled  with 
all  unrighteoufnefs,  fornication,  wickednefs,  covet- 
oufnefs,  malicioufnefs,  full  of  envy,  murder,  debate, 
deceit,  malignity  ;  whifperers,  backbiters,  haters  of 
God,  defpiteful,  proud,  boafters,  inventors  of  evil 
things,  difobedient  to  parents,  without  underfland- 
ing,  covenant-breakers,  without  natural  affection, 
jmplacable,  unmerciful."     Such  were  the  enormities 

of 


Il8  KNOWLEDGE  [SeRM.  X. 

of  the  Heathen,  at  the  time,  when  the  Saviour  ap- 
peared. Such  were  the  confequences  of  diiregarding 
the  teftimony  of  nature  and  providence.  Such  the 
punifhment  of  that  vanity,  which  tempted  m.en  to 
deny  the  being  of  a  God  ;  or  difmclined  themi  to 
"  retain  God  in  their  knowledo-e.*' 

To  render  this  fubjecl  a  ufeful  leffon  to  ourfelves, 
I  fhall  confider  what  is  implied  in  the  knowledge  of 
God  ;  fhow  how  this  knowledge  is  commiunicated 
to  us  ;  point  out  the  means  by  which  it  may  be  pre- 
ferved  ;  and  then  ftate  the  certain  confequences  of 
retaining,  and  of  loling  it.  Firfl — What  are  we  to 
underftand  by  the  knowledge  of  God  ?  I  anfwer,  not 
a  clear  and  perfect  comprehenfion  of  his  character, 
but  fuch  a  general  idea  of  his  nature,  will,  and  de- 
figns,  as  may  be  obtained  fromi  the  contemplation  of 
his  works,  and  the  ftudy  of  his  word.  Beings  of 
our  very  limited  capacities,  muft  defpair  of  finding 
out  the  Almighty  to  perfection.  Eternity,  immen- 
fity,  omnipotence,  are  objects  too  great  for  the  hu- 
man underftanding.  Nor  can  we  form  adequate 
ideas  of  the  moral  excellencies  of  his  nature.  The 
manner  in  which  he  fuftains,  and  governs  the  uni- 
verfe,  is,  of  necefiity,  a  fecret  to  us.  And  number- 
lefs  events,  v/hich  take  place  by  his  permiflion  or 
appointment,  will  be  myfterious  in  our  eyes,  till  we 
have  new  faculties  ;  and  can  take  a  nearer  view  of 
his  difpenfations. 

In  what  then,  confiils  the  knowledge  of  God  ?  In 
the  knowledge  of  his  being,  his  unity,  his  indepen- 
dence ;  in  the  knowledge  of  his  relation  to  us,  as  a 
creator,  preferver,  and  benefador  ;  in  the  knowledge, 
that  he  is  pofTeifed  of  power,  w^hich  nothing  can 
control ;  of  wifdom,  that  nothing  can  efcape  ;  of 
^oodnefs,  which  extends  to  every  creature  ;    in  the 

knowledge 


Serm.  X.3  G'   god.  iig 

knowledge  of  his  will,  as  it  refpects  the  whole  con- 
duel  of  our  lives  here  ;  and  his  defigns,  as  they  re- 
late to  our  happinefs  hereafter.  If  we  have  dear 
and  rational  views  of  thefe  things,  we  know  God,  as 
the  terms  are  ufed  in  the  text.  Nor  is  it  any  real 
misfortune,  that  we  cannot  anfwer  all  the  curious 
queflions,  which  may  be  fuggefted  by  fpeculations 
on  the  divine  nature. 

The  great  point,  which  it  concerns  us  to  afcertain, 
is  the  unity  of  God,  as  the  only  proper  object  of  our 
homage  ;  his  character,  as  the  object  of  our  confi- 
dence J  his  will,  as  our  governor  ;  and  his  inten- 
tions, as  the  arbiter  of  our  fate.  Have  we  this  ac- 
quaintance with  the  author  of  our  being  ?  Do  we 
know  that  he  only  is  God  ?  Do  we  know  that  our 
prayers  and  praifes  are  due  to  him  only  ?  Do  we 
know  that  he  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us,  and  that 
he  is  able  and  willing  to  help  us  ?  Do  we  know  what 
he  requires  of  us,  as  the  condition  of  his  friendlhip  ? 
Do  we  know  our  duty  to  him,  our  fellow-men,  and 
ourfelves  ?  Do  we  know  that  the  prefent  is  prepara- 
tory to  a  future  ftate  j  and  that  it  depends  upon  our 
behaviour  in  this  world,  whether  we  Ihail  be  crowned 
with  glory,  or  covered  with  fhame ;  whether  we  Ihall 
be  happy  or  miferable  in  the  world  to  come  ?  If  our 
minds  are  generally  enlightened  on  thefe  points,  we 
have  the  knowledge  of  God. 

I  PROCEED  then  to  fhow,  fecondly,  how  this 
knowledge  is  communicated  to  us.  And  it  mult  be 
admitted,  that  the  volumes  of  nature,  and  revelation, 
are  the  true  fource  of  our  information.  The  Hea- 
then had  accefs  to  the  former.  Before  their  eyes, 
were  the  works  of  God  ;  or,  as  the  apoftle  exprelTes 
himfelf,  the  things  which  are  made  :  and  from  thofe 
things,  they  might  have  afcended  to  their  author. 

From 


120  KNOWLEDGE  [Serm.  X. 

From  the  wonderful  ftrudure  of  the  heavens,  from 
the  air,  and  from  the  earth  ;  from  their  own  powers 
of  body  and  mind  :  from  the  courfe  of  things  in  the 
natural  world,  and  from  the  order  of  providence, 
they  might  have  deduced  the  inviiible  things  of  God. 
It  was  a  very  obvious  conclufion,  that  fuch  ftupendous 
cfFefts  muft  have  an  adequate  caufe.  Hence  the  ob- 
fervation  of  the  apoftle,  "  that  which  may  be  known 
of  God  is  manifeft  to  them  ;  for  God  hath  fliewed 
it  unto  them." 

In  like  manner,  God  continually  exhibits  him.felf 
to  us  in  his  works,  and  providential  adminiftrations. 
*'  The  heavens  declare  his  glory,  the  firmament  his 
wifdom,  the  earth  his  power ;  its  various  productions, 
his  bounty ;  the  courfe  of  nature,  his  unremitting 
energy  ;  the  feries  and  tendency  of  events,  his  direc- 
tion ;  and  man,  his  moral  image  !  Ail  the  works,  and 
ways  of  God,  may,  therefore,  be  regarded  as  a  fource 
of  religious  informxation.  They  do  unite  in  one 
harmonious  teftimony  to  the  exiftence  of  God,  and 
to  his  wifdom,  power,  and  benevolence.  For  this 
reafon,  devotion  gives  a  voice  to  inanimate  objed:s  5 
and  piety  calls  upon  them  to  praife  their  maker. 

But  though  God  has  difcovered  hirafelf  to  us  in 
his  works,  and  in  his  adminiftrations,  ftill  the  facred 
volume  is  the  principal  fource  of  our  information. 
From  the  gofpel  of  Chrift,  we  derive  the  moft  fatis- 
faclory  knowledge  of  our  creator,  governor,  and 
judge.  That  glorious  inftrucrer,  who  was  fpecially 
commifiioned,  and  eminently  qualified,  to  enlighten 
the  world,  has  declared  to  us,  the  natural  and  moral 
perfeftions  of  the  Deity  ;  has  borne  a  glorious  tefti- 
mony to  his  unity,  his  unalienable  right  to  our  fer- 
vices,  his  holinefs,  juftice,  forbearance,  veracity,  and 
benevolence  j  has  taught   us  what  God  expeds  and 

requires 


8erm*  XJ  op    god.  X21 

requires,  as  a  proof  of  our  gratitude  and  fubmiffion  ; 
has  prefcribed  our  duty  in  all  branches,  and  in  its  full 
extent ;  has  eftablifhed  the  efficacy  of  repentance  j 
has  brought  Hfe  and  immortality  to  light ;  and  hav- 
ing revealed,  has  informed  us  how  we  may  fccure, 
this  great  falvation.  The  neceffity  of  his  own  inter« 
pofition,  the  expediency  of  his  fuflering  and  death, 
and  the  bleffings  finally  refulting  from  his  mediation, 
are,  in  refpeft  to  us,  branches  of  the  knowledge  of 
God.  And  for  information  on  thefe  interefting 
points,  we  are  wholly  indebted  to  the  gofpel.  Com- 
paring, therefore,  the  volumes  of  nature  and  revela- 
tion, we  mufl  be  fenfible  of  the  infinite  fuperiority 
of  the  latter,  as  a  refource  of  religious  knowledge. 

Having  thus  iliown  how  the  knowledge  of  God 
is  obtained,  I  proceed  to  confider,  thirdly,  the  means, 
by  which  it  may  be  prefer ved.  Addreffing  himfelf 
to  the  Corinthians,  St.  Paul  has  this  remark,  "  fome 
have  not  the  knowledge  of  God  *,  I  fpeak  this  to 
your  ftiame."  And  in  the  chapter,  from  which  I 
have  felecled  the  text,  it  clearly  appears,  that  the  lofs 
of  this  knowledge  is  not  merely  poffible,  but  that  it 
may  be  juftly  apprehended,  unlefs  proper  meafures  be 
ufed  to  prevent  it.  The  apoftle  produces  inftances, 
in  which  God  has  withdrawn  himfelf  from  thofe, 
who  had  laid  in  their  hearts,  "  depart  from  us  ;  we 
defire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.'* 

To  avert  fo  great  a  calamity,  it  is  neceffary  that 
we  fliould  meditate  frequently  on  the  fupreme  being, 
on  his  glorious  character,  on  his  relation  to  us,  on 
his  holy  will,  on  his  providence,  and  on  his  defigns. 
When  we  behold  his  works,  our  thoughts  fhoiild 
afcend  to  their  author.  When  we  refled  on  the 
events,  v/hich  take  place,  we  ihould  make  a  pious 
tranfition  to  their  in  viable  director.  But  moft  of  all, 
(^  ihould 


|.?f  KNOWLEDGE  [SeRM.  Xi 

fliould  we  ftudy  thfr.infpired  volume,  and  dwell  oii 
its  fublime  difcoveries,  relative  to  the  nature  and  will 
of  God.  We  fhould  not  fufFer  the  cares  and  pleaf- 
ures  of  the  world  to  prevent  a  daily  recurrence  to 
the  facred  oracles.  Some  moments  fliould  be  referv- 
ed  for  confulting  a  book,  which  contains  an  authen- 
tick  account  of  our  creation,  and  creator  ;  and  which 
reveals  truths  of  infinite  importance  to  the  human 
kind. 

If  we  choofe  to  retain  God  in  our  knowledge,  we 
muft,  therefore,  converfe  frequently  with  his  word* 
The  holy  fcriptures  muft  be  confulted,  not  merely  ta 
decide  fome  controverted  point,  but  to  confirm  good 
impieflions  already  made.  Their  reprefentation  of 
God  and  our  duty,  though  familiar,  muft  not  ceafe 
to  command  our  daily  attention.  We  muft  endure 
the  repetition  of  truths  often  communicated ;  we 
muft  meditate  on  them,  though  they  have  often  em- 
ployed our  thoughts  ;  we  muft  bring  them  home  to 
our  hearts,  and  confciences,  if  we  would  not  lofe 
fuch  a  valuable  attainment.  To  neglect  the  word  of 
God,  is  to  expofe  ourfelves  to  the  lofs  of  that  know- 
ledge, whicli  is  efrentially  connected  with  our  eternal 

welfare. 

?'•-'■■ 

,';),We  muft  alfo,  to  preferve  the  knowledge  of  God, 
maintain  a  continual  intercourfe  with  him.  We  muft 
invoke  his  name  ;  celebrate  his  perfeclions ;  adore 
his  providence  ;  thank  him  for  mercies ;  acknowledge 
our  offences  againft  him ;  implore  his  forgivenefs ; 
fpread  all  our  wants  before  him  ;  and  intercede  with 
him  for  the  whole  family  of  mankind.  The  offices 
of  devotion,  conftantly  performed,  will  not  fuffer  us 
to  forget  our  maker.  Prayer,  joined  to  the  ftudy  of 
the  facred  pages,  and  ferious  meditation  on  the  laws 
©f  God,  and  on  his  character^  as  drawn  in  thofc 

pages. 


SiRM.X.]  'OF     GOB.      '  i-ty 

pages,  will  necefTarily  tend  to  preferve  the  knowledge^^' 
©n  which  fo  much  ftrefs  is  laid  by  the  apoftle. 

Further — We  muft  not  neglect  any  of  thofe 
means,  which  God  has  appointed  for  this  important 
purpofe.  Thofe  productions  of  human  piety  and 
induftry,  which  throw  light  on  the  character  of  the 
blefled  God  ;  which  illultrate  our  duty  to  him  ;  and 
which  enforce  that  duty  by  rational  motives,  fliould 
have  their  fliarc  of  our  attention.  We  ihould  con- 
fult  writings  of  a  devotional  and  practical  nature :  and 
we  fliould  liften  to  thofe  moral  and  religious  counfels, 
which  are  publicly  inculcated.  Thus,  by  ftudy,  by 
meditation,  by  prayer,  by  giving  heed  to  fuch  writ- 
ings and  difcourfes,  as  have  God  and  religion  for  their 
fubjed,  may  we  retain  our  knowledge  of  the  former, 
and  our  reverence  of  the  latter.  We  fliall  not  let 
any  thing  efcape,  which  is  effential  to  our  improve- 
ment and  happinefs,  if  we  fet  a  proper  value  on  the 
means  of  obtaining  an  acquaintance  with  our  maker  j 
and  do  not  neglect  to  avail  ourfelves  of  them. 

I  HASTE,  in  the  laft  place,  to  fliow  the  neceffary 
confequences  of  retaining,  and  of  lofing  the  know- 
ledge of  God.  The  only  fecurity  of  a  religious  tem- 
per, and  of  a  good  life,  is  an  habitual  conviction  of 
the  divine  prefence  and  authority.  This  is  the  fpring 
gf  all  virtuous  adions.  When  the  mind  is  deeply 
impreffed  with  thefe  truths,  that  there  is  a  God ;  that 
he  is  not  far  from  his  creatures  ;  that  he  is  a  witnefs 
of  all  their  actions,  whether  good  or  bad ;  that  he 
detefts  every  falfe  way  ;  that  he  has  appointed  a  day, 
in  which  he  will  judge  the  world  in  righteoufnefs  ; 
and  that  he  will  call  every  human  being  to  a  ftrift 
account ;  when  the  mind,  I  obferve,  realizes  thefe 
truths,  it  will  naturally  influence  the  wifl.  Such  a 
knowledge,  and  habitual  recollection  of  God,  will 

have 


Z34»  KNOWI^EDOB  [SeRM.  X> 

have  a  powerful  tendency  to  enforce  the  laws  of  truth 
and  honefty,  the  laws  of  temperance  and  humility, 
the  laws  of  piety  and  benevolence.  It  may  be  reafon- 
ably  expected,  that  the  man,  who  retains  this  know- 
ledge, will  be  an  example  of  fhining  virtue.  Juflice  in 
his  dealings,  faithfulnefs  in  his  engagements,  ijiodera- 
tion  in  his  indulgences,  meeknefs  and  patience  under 
wrongs,  devotion  to  his  maker,  kindnefs  to  the  mif- 
erable,  generolity  to  the  unthankful,  and  goodnefs 
to  all  ;  if  thefe  moral  and  chriftian  virtues  exift  in 
any  human  being,  we  may  prefume  upon  finding 
them  in  him,  who  retains  the  knowledge  of  God, 
as  the  terms  have  been  defined.  This  principle,  ac- 
cording to  the  coriftitution,  and  tendency  of  things, 
muft  be  productive  of  every  good  work. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  is  to  prevent  an  inunda? 
tion  of  vice,  when  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  a  re- 
fpe6t  for  his  authority,  are  effaced  from  the  mind. 
What  is  to  fupply  the  place  of  religious  confidera- 
tions,  and  motives  ?  Can  human  laws  render  men 
fober,  righteous,  and  devout  ?  By  no  means  :  they 
can  prevent  evils  of  a  particular  defcription,  and  they 
can  regulate  certain  adions,  which  concern  man  in 
his  political  capacity.  But  there  are  numberlefs  vices, 
which  human  laws  cannot  prevent  ;  and  there  are 
many  virtues,  which  thofe  lav/s  cannot  enforce.  The 
wifeft  government  cannot,  by  any  lawful  exercife  of 
power,  prevent  envy,  malice,  and  revenge,  flander, 
avarice,  pride,  and  feUifhnefs,  intemperance,  idlenefs, 
and  impiety.  Nor  can  fuch  a  government,  by  its 
wifeft  inftitutions,  compel  men  to  feel  compafiion, 
and  to  exercife  charity  ;  to  do  good  to  their  enemies  ; 
to  be  fair  and  generous  in  their  dealings  ;  to  fpeak 
the  truth  on  all  occafions  j  to  be  pure  in  heart,  and 
?:hafte  in  actions.     And  yet  the  cultivation  of  thefc 

principleSj 


Serm.  XJ  ^^  ®°®^  1^5 

principles,  and, the  pradice  of  thefe  virtues,  nearly 
concern  the  interefls  and  happinefs  of  fociety. 

If  men  do  not  choofe  to  retain  God  in  their  know* 
ledge,  it  follows,  then,  that  human  wifdom  cannot 
fupply  his  place.  No  ;  when  perfons  have  thrown 
off  thofe  reftraints,  which  his  prefence  and  authority 
once  impofed,  they  are  eafily  reconciled  to  the  worft 
pradices.  The  laws  of  fociety  will  not  reach  their 
cafe  ;  and  a  fenfe  of  honour,  and  a  regard  to  appear- 
ances, can  have  neither  an  extenlive  nor  a  lading  in- 
fluence. We  have  only  to  obferve  the  fliameful,  the 
unnatural,  the  horrible,  and  the  ruinous  vices  of  the 
Heathen,  to  be  convinced  of  the  wickednefs  of  man, 
when  God  is  forgotten  ;  when  his  authority  is  defr- 
pifed  ;  and  when  the  laws  and  fandions  of  religion 
are  difcarded. 

I  MUST,  therefore,  as  an  application  of  the  fubje^, 
earneftly  intreat  you  to  hold  faft  thofe  principles, 
which  you  have  received ;  and  to  be  earneft,  above 
all  things,  to  retain  the  knowledge  of  God  and  re- 
ligion. Would  you  avoid  thofe  things,  which  are 
not  convenient  ?  Does  the  thought  of  a  reprobate 
mind  fill  you  with  horror  ?  Can  you  conceive  of  no 
greater  degradation  of  your  nature,  than  to  be  fille4 
with  ail  unrighteoufnefs  ?  Are  you  ftiocked  with  the 
various  crimes  and  enormities,  which  make  up  the 
charge  againft  thofe,  who  were  averfe  to  the  know- 
ledge of  God  ?  Then  do  you  fet  a  juft  value  on  that 
knowledge,  and  take  every  meafure  to  preferve  it. 
Let  nature  and  providence  teach  you.  Let  the  pro- 
phets of  ancient  times,  let  the  infpired  apoftles,  and 
above  all,  let  the  Son  of  God  be  your  inftru<^ers. 
Let  the  infpired  writings  be  the  companion  of  fuch 
hours,  as  you  can  redeem  from  the  world  and  its 
foncerps.      Be  earneft  with  him,  who  gives  liberally. 


t&4  ON  i^ARCHiNS  Perm.  XI, 

to  give  you  ftill  clearer  views  of  his  adorable  charac- 
ter, and  holy  will.  Refufe  not  a  candid  attention  to 
thofe  exhortations,  admonitions,  and  inftrudions, 
which  are  difpenfed  by  perfons  profeffionally  called 
to  fpread  the  knowledge,  and  inculcate  the  pradice 
of  virtue.  Being  fwift  to  hear,  careful  to  retain,  and 
diligent  to  ferve  God,  and  to  difcharge  your  duty  to 
man,  you  may  rationally  hope  to  be  an  honour  to 
human  nature,  and  to  be  qualified  for  a  better  ftate. 


)ennon  xi. 


On  fearching  the  Scriptures. 

John  v.  39. 

"  SEARCH     THE     SCRIPTURES." 

"/^  OD,  who,  at  fundry  times,  and  in  diver^f 
vJX  manners,  fpake  unto  the  fathers  by  the  pro- 
phets, hath,  in  thefe  laft  days,  fpoken  unto  us  by 
his  Son.'*  And  the  gofpel,  which  this  divine  in- 
ftru(^er  published  to  the  world,  and  fealed  with  his 
blood,  muft  be  confidered  as  an  ineftimable  bleffing. 
It  contains  the  religious  doctrines,  which  we  ought 
to  believe,  and  the  moral  duties,  which  we  are  bound 
to  praclife.  It  throws  divine  light  on  the  chara<^er 
and  government  of  God.  It  clears  up  all  doubts  and 
difficulties  refpeding  a  future  ftate.  And  it  encour- 
ages the  chriftian  temper  and  pradice,  by  fetting  be- 
fore us  the  pureft  examples,  and  the  nobleft  motives. 
If  this  be  a  juft  defcription  of  the  facred  volume,  how 

reafonable 


i 


SeRM.  XI.3  ^MJS    SCRIPTUftSS.  TI7 

reafonabk  is  the  injun^ion  in  the  text  ?  What  can 
we  do  better  than  to  fearch  thofe  pages,  which  ar« 
**  profitable  for  dodrine,  for  reproof,  for  correclion, 
and  for  inftruclion  in  righteoufnefs"  ?  By  fuch  a 
wife  ufe  of  the  means  of  religious  information,  the 
man  of  God  may,  in  a  fenfe,  be  perfgft,  thoroughly 
furnilhed  unto  every  good  work. 

It  is  happy  for  us,  that  we  have  free  aceefs  to  the 
oracles  of  God.  This  is  a  privilege,  for  which  we 
are  indebted  to  the  reformation.  Till  this  event 
took  place,  Chriftians  were  kept  in  ignorance  by  the 
wicked  policy  of  an  ambitious  order  of  men,  who  af- 
fumed  the  facred  name  of  religious  inftru6iers.  Thefc 
fpiritual  tyrants  locked  up  the  fcriptures  in  an  un- 
known tongue.  They  taught  the  multitude,  that  it 
was  their  duty  to  believe,  not  to  inquire.  And  in- 
ftead  of  declaring  the  counfel  of  God,  they  imparted 
fo  much  only  as  fuited  their  interefted  views  and 
deligns. 

But  the  daring  fpirit  of  Luther  broke  the  fhackles, 
which  religious  tyranny  had  forged  ;  and  the  exam- 
ple of  this  great  reformer  was  not  only  applauded, 
but  followed  by  many  others.  The  holy  fcriptures 
were  refcued  from  oblivion.  For  the  benefit  of  the 
multitude,  they  were  rendered  into  their  own  lan- 
guage ;  and  they  were  encouraged  to  confult  them, 
as  the  only  infallible  rule  of  faith  and  pradice.  This 
diredion  is  founded  on  the  bell  authority,  even  that 
of  our  Saviour.  Difcourfmg  with  the  Jews,  he  com- 
manded them  to  "  fearch  the  fcriptures.'*  And  were 
he  now  on  earfh,  he  would  addrefs  us  in  the  fame 
language. 

I.  In  the  following  difcourfe,  I  fliall  endeavour, 
in  the  firft  place,  to  fliow  how  the  facred  volume  is 
to  be  fearched  and  ftudied. 

2.  And 


128  ON    SEARCHING  [SerM.  XT. 

2.     And  fecondly,  I  Ihall  conlider  the  probable  re* 
ifult  of  our  inquiries. 

•  Not  every  one,  who  turns  over  the  faered  pages, 
tail,  with  any  propriety,  be  faid  to  ftudy  them. 
Many  perfons  read  in  fo  carelefs  a  manner,  that 
they  derive  very  little  information  from  the  word 
of  God.  Their  eye  and  their  thoughts  are  very  dif- 
ferently employed.  Hence,  though,  in  appearance, 
ever  learning,  in  reality,  they  never  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth.  To  receive  that  informa- 
tion from  the  gofpel,  which  it  is  capable  of  impart- 
ing, we  muft  fearch  with  attention,  and  inquire  with 
impartiality.  We  muft  take  every  paffage  in  con- 
nexion. We  muft  make  a  proper  allowance  for  the 
figurative  modes  of  expreflion,  which  were  common 
in  the  Eaft.  We  muft  compare  dark  paifages  with 
thofe,  which  are  plain,  and  make  the  one  a  comment 
On  the  other.  And  if  the  unavoidable  cares  of  life 
will  not  fufFer  us  to  go  into  a  minute  examination 
of  all  parts,  we  muft  principally  attend  to  thofe, 
which  defcribe  the  perfedions  and  providence  of 
God ;  the  example  of  Jefus  Chrift  ;  the  pradical 
inftruftions,  which  he  delivered  ;  the  motives  to 
obedience,  which  he  propofed  ;  and  the  falvation, 
which  he  revealed.  Whoever  obferves  thefe  rules, 
jnuft,  I  conceive,  find  his  reward  in  fearching  the 
fcriptures. 

Without  attention  and  impartiality,  it  is  impof- 
ilble  that  we  ftiould  make  any  progrefs  in  divine 
knowledge.  To  fucceed  in  any  undertaking,  we 
muft  be  in  earneft  :  and  m.oft  certainly,  a  diligent 
application  to  the  word  of  God  is  indifpen fable,  if 
we  would  become  wife  to  falvation.  A  fuperior  un- 
derftanding  is  by  no  means  nccefiary,  in  order  to 
ftudy  the  gofpel  to  advantage.  But  a  proper  atten- 
tion 


'SeRM.  XlJ  THE    J5CRIPTURES.  1 29 

tion  to  the  fubjeft,  and  a  difpolition  to  be  informed, 
cannot  be  difpenfed  Math.  They  are  the  quaUties, 
which  ennobled  the  Bereans  in  the  eyes  of  the  apof- 
tle  ;  and  which  led  a  facred  hiftorian  to  fpeak  of 
them  in  terms  of  high  commendation.  When  the 
gofpel  was  preached  in  their  fynagogue,  they  received 
it  with  candour  and  good  manners.  But  Hill,  they 
thought  it  expedient  to  inquire,  before  they  com- 
menced Chriftians.  Accordingly,  retiring  from  the 
fynagogue,  they  took  up  the  fcriptures,  and  examin- 
ed for  their  own  fatisfadion.  The  accounts,  given 
them  of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  his  religion,  they  compared 
with  the  prophecies,  which  went  before.  This  prac- 
tice they  obferved  daily.  And  the  confequence  was 
a  cordial  affent  to  the  chriflian  religion.  A  conduct 
fo  rational,  and  fo  highly  becoming  fmcere  inquirers 
after  the  truth,  prefented  a  ftriking  contraft  to  that 
of  their  ThefTalonian  neighbours.  They  difcovered 
an  inveterate  hatred  towards  the  religion  of  Jefus, 
-and  its  preachers.  And  for  this  reafon,  they  are  in- 
troduced into  the  facred  ftory,  as  a  fhade  to  fet  off  the 
Bereans.  "  Thefe,'*  fays  the  infpired  author,  "  were 
more  noble  than  thofe  of  Theffalonica,  in  that  they 
received  the  word  with  all  readinefs  of  mind,  and 
fearched  the  fcriptures  daily,  vv^hether  thofe  things 
were  fo.     Therefore,  many  of  them  believed.'* 

But  further — To  fearch  the  fcriptures  to  advantage, 
we  muft  take  every  paffage  in  its  connexion,  and  re- 
jecting the  artificial  divilions,  which  have  been  intro- 
duced, we  muft  perufe  the  facred  page  as  we  would 
any  other  book.  Nothing  has  contributed  fo  much 
to  obfcure  the  infpired  volume,  as  the  injudicious 
manner,  in  which  fome  parts  of  it  are  divided.  It  is 
no  uncommon  thing  for  a  chapter  to  begin  in  the 
midft  of  an  argument.  And  the  vcrfes  often  carry 
R  v/itk 


130  ON    SEARCHING  [SeRM.  XL 

with  them  the  appearance  of  fo  many  diftin£t  propo- 
litions,  or  aphorifms,  when,  in  reality,  they  are  only 
portions  of  fome  narrative,  or  links  in  fome  chain  of 
reafoning.  This  is  an  inconvenience,  both  to  the 
learned,  and  -unlearned  reader.  And  it  has  been 
ferioufly  lamented  by  many  commentators  on  tlie 
gofpel.  One  of  the  moft  celebrated  inquirers  after 
religious  truth,  confiders  it  as  a  principal  caufe  of  that 
obfcurity,  which  we  perceive  in  fome  of  the  writings 
of  St.  Paul.  He  obferves,  that  "  our  minds  are  fo 
weak,  that  they  have  need  of  all  tlie  helps  that  can  be 
procured,  to  lay  before  them,  undifturbedly,  the 
thread,  and  coherence  of  any  difcourfe."  Hence,  he 
infers,  that  an  unnatural  feparation  of  fentences,  and 
the  breaking  up  of  narrations  and  arguments  into 
diftind  fragments,  muft  render  it  difficult  to  follow 
the  writer.  From  the  epilUes  of  Paul,  he  makes  a 
tranfition  to  thofe  of  Cicero  ;  and  he  inquires, 
whether  the  latter,  if  divided  like  the  former,  would 
not  become  far  lefs  intelligible  and  entertaining  than 
they  now  are  ? 

These  remarks,  joined  to  our  own  experience, 
fhow  the  necellity  of  overlooking  artificial  divifions, 
and  attending  to  the  general  defign  of  the  writer, 
and  the  connexion  of  his  difcourfe.  Where  it  can 
be  done,  a  whole  book  fliould  be  read  at  once.  But 
when  this  is  impracticable,  we  muft  follow  our  beft 
judgment,  and  be  governed  by  thofe  divifions,  which 
the  nature  of  the  fubjed  fhall  mark  out.  Unlefs  we 
proceed  after  this  manner,  we  fhall  never  have  a  clear 
and  connected  view  of  the  truths  contained  in  the 
facred  oracles.  Our  religious  ideas  will  be  confufed. 
And  the  darknefs  will  not  be  chafed  from  our  minds, 
notwithftanding  "  the  day-fpring  from  on  high  hath 
Tilited  us." 

To 


SeRM.  XI.]  THE    SCRIPTURES.  I3I 

To  "  fearch  the  fcriptures**  to  advantage,  we  mud 
likewife  make  an  allowance  for  the  figurative  modes 
of  expreffion,  which  were  common  in  the  Eaft.  Ma- 
ny ©f  thofe  figures  are  to  be  found  in  the  word  of 
God.  But  the  fame  common  fenfe,  which  guides  us 
in  other  cafes,  will  help  us  in  this.  When  we  go  to 
the  fcriptures,  we  fhould  take  our  reafon  with  us. 
And  this  reafon  will  generally  diftinguifti  popular 
expreflions  from  thofe,  which  are  to  be  underftood 
in  a  literal  fenfe.  Under  the  direction  of  fuch  a 
guide,  we  fhall  not  fuppofe  that  God  has  human 
parts  or  paflions,  though,  in  accommodation  to  our 
weaknefs,  the  fcripture  feems  to  convey  fuch  an  idea. 
We  fliall  not  fuppofe  that  Jefus  Chrift  is  literally  a 
vine,  that  the  facramental  bread  is  literally  his  body, 
or  the  wine  his  blood,  though  his  language  feems 
to  have  this  import.  A  very  moderate  fhare  of 
underftanding  will  guide  us  through  the  labyrinth  of 
figure  and  metaphor,  if  we  only  call  it  to  our  aid. 
The  facred  volume  requires  no  greater  indulgence, 
than  that,  which  is  freely  granted  to  all  human 
produdions. 

To  proceed — If  we  would  "  fearch  the  fcripture" 
with  any  profpecl  of  fuccefs,  we  muft  compare  dark 
palfages  with  thofe  which  are  plain,  and  make  the 
one  a  comment  on  the  other.  To  this  rule,  no  rea- 
fbnable  objection  can  be  made.  It  is  the  very  rule, 
which  we  obferve,  when  we  perufe  the  works  of 
uninfpired  authors.  And  as  the  facred  writers  were 
often  left  to  choofe  their  own  exprefilons,  the  fame 
meafure,  which  is  ufed  in  other  cafes,  will  be  proper 
in  theirs.  We  fhould  confider  how  the  fame  fact  is 
related  in  different  parts  of  the  infpired  hiftory« 
We  fhould  inquire  how  the  fame  truth  is  expreffed  ; 
and  by  what  arguments  it  is  fupported,  by  different 

writers. 


132'  GN    »IARCHIN»  [SeRM.  XL 

writers.  We  fliould  diligently  compare  parallel 
places.  Proceeding  in  this  manner,  many  difficulties 
will  be  cleared  up,  and  we  ftiall  find  a  wonderful 
harmony,  where  the  fcripture  has  been  injurioully 
charged  with  contradidiion.  Thus  has  the  hiftory 
of  our  Saviour  been  illuftrated  ;  and  the  dodrines 
of  Paul  and  James  been  reconciled. 

Finally — There  are  perfons,  whofe  fituation  in 
life  will  not  permit  them  to  go  into  critical  inquiries. 
To  read  to  advantage,  they  ought,  therefore,  to  fearch 
that  part  of  the  infpired  volume,  which  teaches  them 
how  they  fliould  behave  to  God  and  their  neighbour : 
with  what  temper  they  fhould  receive  both  injuries 
and  favours  :  how  they  Ihouid  demean  themfelves  it\ 
profperity  and  adverfity  :  and  what  they  may  here- 
after expecl:,  if  they  fear  God,  believe  on  Jefus  Chrift, 
follow  his  example,  and  obey  his  laws.  The  rules  of 
the  gofpel,  and  the  hope  there  fet  before  us,  are  of 
infinitely  more  importance  than  any  mere  fpeculation. 
It  is  for  this  reafon,  therefore,  that  practical  Chrif- 
tianity  is  recommended  to  thofe,  who  have  not  time 
to  look  into  all  myfteries,  and  all  knowledge. 

2.  Having  thus  propofed  rules  for  fearching  the 
fcriptures,  I  proceed,  fecondly,  to  the  probable  refult 
of  our  inquiries.  And,  let  me  obferve,  the  moft  ex- 
tenfive  acquaintance  with  the  word  of  God  will  not 
render  a  man  a  great  natural  philofopher,  or  politician ; 
will  not  qualify  him  to  make  laws,  or  to  lead  armies  ; 
will  not  give  him  a  fuperiority  over  others  in  regard 
to  the  acquifition  of  wealth,  or  the  purfuits  of  ambi- 
tion. I  mention  this,  becaufe  fome  have  imagined, 
that  every  fpecies  of  information  may  be  obtained 
from  the  facred  books.  There  are  perfons,  who  have 
pretended  to  find  a  complete  fyftem  of  aftronomy  in 
the  writings  of  Mofes.     Others  have  difcovered  in 

them 


SeRM.  XI.l  THE    SCRIPTURES.  133. 

them  the  fciencc  of  medicine,  anatomy,  agriculture, 
and  the  mechanic  arts.  Sometimes,  the  fcriptures 
have  been  brought  to  prove,  and  at  other  times,  to 
contradict  the  received  philofophy  of  the  age.  But 
the  real  fact  is,  neither  the  revelation  of  Mofes,  nor 
that  of  Jefus,  pretend  to  throw  light  on  thefe  fub- 
jecls.  They  v/ere  not  publiflied  with  any  fuch  view. 
The  defign  of  the  former  was  to  enlighten,  and 
reform  the  Jews  ;  and  that  of  the  latter,  to  put  an 
end  to  the  luperftition  and  wickednefs  of  mankind 
M.  large.  Confequently,  a  man  may  be  mighty  in 
the  fcriptures  without  being  a  proficient  in  human 
knowledge. 

Ac  A  IN— Though  we  fearch  the  fcriptures  agreeably 
to  the  rules  here  laid  down,  it  is  not  to  be  expe<51:ed, 
that  we  fhould  obtain  a  clear  idea  of  every  particu- 
lar contained  in  them.  The  facred  volume  compre- 
hends a  variety  of  fubjecls.  Some  parts  of  it  are  hif- 
torical,  fome  poetical,  fome  devotional,  fome  practical, 
and  fome  prophetical.  Sometimes,  we  receive  inftruc- 
tion  in  plain  terms  j  at  other  times,  in  parables.  Now, 
an  allegory,  and  nov/  a  dialogue,  is  made  the  vehicle 
of  divine  truth.  Befides,  the  books,  which  form  the 
facred  collection,  were  compofed  at  different  times, 
and  under  very  different  difpenfations.  Nothing  can 
be  more  unlike,  than  the  political  and  religious  circum- 
ilances  of  mankind,  when  the  fever al  books  were 
publiflied.  Confequently,  a  degree  of  obfcurity  might 
be  expected.  Nor  can  this  be  any  objection  to  the 
facred  origin  afcribed  to  the  Jewifli  and  Chriftian 
fcriptures.  In  the  books  of  nature  and  providence, 
Ave  find  things  hard  to  be  underftood.  But  from 
hence  we  do  not  infer,  that  God  was  not  their  author. 
How  abfurd  would  it  be  to  deny  his  agency,  becaufe 
we  cannot  afcertain  the  ufe  or  final  caufe  of  fome 

produdions  I 


^34  ON  sEARCHm*  [Serm.  XL 

produclions?  And  how  impious  to  maintain,  that 
the  courfe  of  events  cannot  be  under  his  direclion, 
becaufe  his  "  judgments  are  unfearchable,  and  his 
ways  paft  finding  out  ?**  But  upon  the  fame  princi- 
ples, on  which  we  fiiould  condemn  fuch  conduft,  we 
muft  condemn  a  rejection  of  the  fcriptures,  becaufe 
we  cannot  comprehend  every  paffage.  Many  books 
are  a  hiftory  of  events  already  palled  :  and  many  a 
prediction  of  events  to  come.  If,  therefore,  the 
events  themfelves  might,  in  many  refpecls,  exceed 
our  compreheniion,  I  fee  not,  why  a  written  account 
of  them  may  not  partake  of  their  obfcurity. 

Admitting,  then,  that  human  learning  will  not 
reward  our  inquiries  ;  and  that,  after  a  moft  diligent 
attention  to  the  word  of  God,  we  may  not  be  able  ta 
explain  it  in  all  its  parts,  the  queftion  will  be  urged, 
to  what  purpofe  are  the  fcriptures  recommended  to 
our  perufal  ?  What  profit  fliall  we  have,  if  we  ftudy 
them  with  diligence  and  impartiality  ?  I  anfwer,  by 
complying  with  the  admonition  of  our  Saviour,  our 
natural  apprehenllons  of  God  will  be  confirmed  :  and 
we  fhall,  moreover,  have  fuch  views  of  him,  as  will 
powerfully  tend  to  command  our  homage,  love,  and 
obedience.  The  facred  books  difplay  the  fupreme 
beins:  in  a  moft  s:lorious,  but  ftill  in  an  amiable  lio^ht. 
They  teach  us  to  confider  him  as  our  maker,  father, 
and  governor.  They  aifert  his  over-ruling  provi- 
dence, and  furnifh  reafons  for  a  perfeft  confidence 
in  his  adminiftrations. 

They,  moreover,  .inftruct  us  in  all  the  important 
branches  of  moral  duty.  They  prefcribe  rules  for 
the  parent  and  child,  mafter  and  fervant,  prince  and 
fubjeft,  rich  and  poor,  profperous  and  miferable. 
They  point  out  our  duty  to  God,  and  to  ourfelves. 
And  they  fet  before  us,  examples  of  the  moft  exalted 

virtue. 


5rM.  XI.3  THE    SCRIPTUaiS.  J35 

virtue.  When  we  have  done  wrong,  they  teach  u« 
how  to  repair  the  error  :  and  furnifh  unanfwcrablc 
reafons  in  favour  of  repentance  and  reformation. 

They  likewife  bring  to  view,  a  future  flate.  In 
which  that  moral  government,  which  is  begun  in  this 
world,  will  be  carried  to  perfection.  They  give  us 
full  affurance  of  a  refurreclion  from  the  grave.  They 
fet  before  us,  a  tribunal,  before  which  the  whole 
human  kind  will  appear  :  and  a  judge,  from  whofe 
lips  they  will  receive  their  fentence.  And  they 
reveal  to  us,  a  ftate,  in  which  glory,  honour,  and 
immortality  will  attend  the  righteous  :  and  indigna- 
tion and  wrath,  the  workers  of  iniquity. 

Finally — The  fcriptures  exhibit  a  plain  account 
of  the  ruin  of  mankind,  and  the  meafures  taken  for 
their  recovery.  They  defcribe  the  firfl  act  of  difo- 
bedience,  and  its  judicial  confequences.  They  fhow 
the  progrefs  of  moral  evil,  and  the  temporal  judg- 
ments, which  purfued  the  aggreffors.  They  difplay 
the  origin  and  adventures  of  an  extraordinary  peo- 
ple, whom  God  feleded  from  the  mafs  of  mankind, 
to  be  the  repolitories  of  the  true  religion,  at  a  time, 
when  darknefs  overfpread  all  other  nations  of  the 
earth.  They  fhow  how  aU  things  confpired  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  Meffiah.  And  they  relate  all 
the  particulars  of  his  human  parentage,  his  labours, 
his  fufFerings,  his  death,  his  refurreclion,  his  afcen- 
fion,  his  exaltation,  and  his  appointment  to  raife  the 
dead,  and  judge  the  world.  Finally,  they  make  us 
acquainted  with  the  excellencies,  which  adorned  his 
charader,  and  the  dlvation  purchafed  by  his  blood. 

These  remarks  will  furnilh  a  fufficient  anfwer  to 
the  inquiry,  whether  the  information,  derived  from 
Ithe  fcriptures,  will  be  an  adequate  reward  for  the 
[labour  of  fearching  them.     What  can  be  more  in- 

terefting 


136  C>N    S:fiARCHIN«  [SeRM.  XI. 

terefting  to  Us,  than  right  views  of  God,  and  his 
providence  ?  What  more  animating,  than  the  cer- 
tainty, that  his  eye  is  ever  on  us,  and  that  he  orders 
every  circumflance  of  our  lives  ?  What  more  im- 
iportant  to  us,  than  rules  of  conduct,  fuited  to  every 
relation,  which  we  rnay  fuftain  ;  and  any  condition, 
in  which  the  providence  of  God  may  place  us  ?  What 
privilege  fuperior  to  that  of  having  before  us,  the 
beft  of  examples,  and  the  belt  of  motives  ?  What  dif- 
coVery  to  be  compared  with  that  of  a  future  ftate, 
ft  ftate  of  retribution  ;  a  ftate,  in  which  the  effects  of 
a  righteous  government  will  be  univerfally  felt  ?  In 
fliort,  what  communication  of  fuch  moment  to  us, 
as  the  certainty  of  forgivenefs  if  we  repent,  and  fal- 
vation  if  we  believe  and  obey  ;  the  certainty,  that 
tve  ftiall  be  roufed  from  the  flumbers  of  death  ;  that 
our  virtues,  if  we  perfevere,  and  our  vices,  if  wc  con- 
tinue unreformed,  will  follow  us  to  another  world  ; 
and  that  every  man  will  receive  according  to  his 
wotks  !  I  can  form  an  idea  of  no  communications 
more  interefting  than  thefe.  Thefe  appear  to  me  to 
be  the  fubjects,  v/hich  concern  every  reafonable  being. 
The  fcriptures,  therefore,  throwing  light  upon  thefe 
fubjefts,  muft  amply  reward  thofe,  who  diligently 
fearch  them. 

I  CANNOT,  then,  but  recommend  the  diredion  of 
our  bleffed  Saviour  to  your  immediate  attention. 
"  Search  the  fcriptures."  With  good  and  honeft 
hearts,  examine  the  fads  contained  in  them.  Take 
particular  notice  of  the  various  meafures,  which  the 
bleffed  God  has  employed,  in  order  to  render  his 
creatures  virtuous  and  happy.  Coniider  the  rewards 
beftowed,  and  the  puniftiments  inflicted,  in  the  pref- 
ent  ftate.  Conlider  the  precepts,  prohibitions,  ex- 
hortations, promifes,  and  threatenings,  contained  in 

the 


Serm.  XIJ  the  scriptures.  137 

the  gofpel.  Conlider  the  charader  of  Jefus  Chrift, 
as  it  is  there  drawn,  and  the  falvation  there  revealed. 
Above  all,  conlider  thofe  parts  of  the  facred  volume, 
which  prefcribe  your  duty,  and  reprefent  your  future 
reward.  In  fo  doing,  you  will  verify  thofe  words  of 
David,  "  BlelTed  is  the  man,  who  walketh  not  in  the 
counfel  of  the  ungodly,  nor  flandeth  in  the  way  of 
fmners,  nor  fitteth  in  the  feat  of  the  fcornful.  But 
his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  God,  and  in  his  law  doth 
he  m.editate  day  and  night.'*  The  facred  ftudent 
muft  acquire  that  wifdom,  which  will  be  his  glory  in 
this  world,  and  a  fource  of  blelTednefs  hereafter.  To 
religious  ftudies,  we  may  apply  thofe  words  of  the 
eloquent  Roman  :  "  They  afford  nourifhment  to  our 
youth,  delight  our  old  age,  adorn  profperity,  fupply 
a  refuge  to  adveriity,  are  a  conllant  fource  of  pleafure 
at  home,  and  no  impediment  abroad  5  they  cheer  us 
in  the  night  feafon,  and  fweeten  our  retirements." 
So  entertaining  and  inftru(5live  is  the  word  of  God, 
that  he,  who  is  beft  acquainted  with  it,  will  be  mofl: 
ready  to  exclaim,  "  O,  how  love  I  thy  law  !  It  is 
my  meditation  all  the  day.  It  is  a  lamp  to  my  feet, 
and  a  light  unto  my  path.  Thy  teftimonies  have  I 
taken  as  an  heritage  forever.  They  are  the  rejoicing; 
of  my  heart/* 


^^^d^^-^. 


Sermon 


J38  IMPARTIALITY  [SeRM.  XIL 

■^-    ■    •  » 

pennon  xil 

'■'■■'■■■  — ^^ 

On  the  Impartiality  af  God. 
I  Peter  i.  17. 

**  AND  IF  Y£  CALL  ON  THE  FATHER,  WHO,  WITHOUT 
RESPECT  OF  PERSONS,  JUDGETH  ACCORDING  TO" 
EVERY  man's  WORK,  PASS  THE  TIME  OF  YOUR 
SOJOURNING    HERE    IN    EEAR^" 

THESE  words  contain  many  important  truths:, 
without  farther  introdu<5lion,  I  fliall  confider 
them,  in  their  order.  And  in  the  firft  place,  they  in- 
troduce  the  fuprcme  being  in  the  endearing  character 
of  a  parent.  And  in  this  relation  he  ftands  to  all 
his  creatures.  He  is  the  common  father  of  angels 
and  men.  H=e  is  the  father  of  Jews  and  Gentiles,  of 
Mahometans  and  Chriftians.  He  is  the  father  of  all 
the  varying  feels  that  profefs  the  religion  of  his  fon^ 
He  is  the  father  of  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  men,, 
whether  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor.  In  one  word,  he- 
is  the  father  of  all  intelligent  beings,  whatever  globes 
they  inhabit  ;  whatever  fphere  be  afligned  them^ 
As  an  ancient  poet  faid,  "  we  are  all  his  offspring"  j 
and  it  is  his  will  and  pleafure  that  we  fhouid  both 
contemplate  and  invoke  him  as  our  father  in  heaven ► 
If  you  afk,  upon  what  principle  we  claim  a  filial 
relation  to  him  ?  Reafon  and  the  gofpel  furnifh  a 
ready  anfwer.  He  is  our  father  by  creation  ;  for  it 
is  he  that  made  us,  and  not  we  ourfelves.  Out  of 
the  dufl  of  the  earth  he  formed  our  bodies  by  his  al- 
mighty 


SjERM.  XII.3  OF   GOD.  X3^ 

mighty  power  ;  and  his  infpiration  gave  us  under- 
ftanding.  To  God  we  are  abfolutely  indebted  for 
the  gift  of  exiftence.  Our  powers,  both  bqdily  and 
mental,  are  derived  from  him  ;  and  our  circumftan- 
ces  in  life  are  his  wife  appointment.  As  the  author 
of  our.  being,  God  is  therefore  our  parent,  and  it  is 
highly  fit  and  proper  we  Ihould  regard  him  in  this 
endearing  light. 

But  farther — God  is  our  conftant  preferver  and 
benefactor  ;  and  this  is  an  additional  reafon  for  the 
title  bellowed  on  him  in  the  text.  There  is  not  a 
mercy  we  enjoy,  of  which  he  is  not  the  proper  fource. 
It  is  he  that  feeds  and  clothes  us.  Our  eyes  wait 
upon  him,  and  he  gives  us  our  meat  in  due  feafon« 
When  iick,  it  is  he  who  reftores  us  to  health  ;  when 
dcpreffed,  it  is  God  who  revives  our  fpirits.  His  al- 
mighty arm  is  our  protedion  in  time  of  danger ; 
and  every  good  thing  we  call  our  own,  is  the  fruit 
of  his  bounty.  Name  the  blefling  which  fweetens 
human  life,  and  it  may  be  traced  up  to  his  munifi- 
cence. If  creation,  therefore,  would  authorize  us  to 
call  him  father,  how  is  the  relation  ftrengthened, 
when  we  take  into  confideration  his  preferving  care 
and  goodnefs  ! 

But  ftill,  the  moft  ftriking  evidence  of  his  parental 
afFedion,  is  the  gift  of  his  fon  ;  and  the  moft  folid 
ground,  upon  which  this  relation  ftands,  is  the  gra- 
cious difplay  he  has  made  of  himfelf  in  the  gofpel. 
Prom  the  facred  volume  we  learn,  that  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,  fo  the  Lord  is  difpofed  to  have 
companion  on  us  :  that  he  fent  Jefus  Chrift  to  reftore 
us  to  favour  ;  that  the  doors  of  heaven  are  now  fet 
open  ;  and  that  whofoever  will,  may  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely. 

CoNsiD£RiNG  thcfc  things,  is  there  not  fingular 

propriety 


X40  IMPARTIALITY  [SeRM.  XII. 

propriety  in  the  language  of  the  apoftle  ?    In  every 
view,  is  not  God  a  father  to  the  human  kind  ?    Can, 
any  thing  be  more  reafonable  than  to  call  on  him  as 
our  common  parent,  when  life,  breath,  and  every 
enjoyment  are  the  fruits  of  his  bounty  ?    Mull  we 
not  contemplate  a  father,  in  our  creator   and  pre- 
fbrver  ?    Muft  we  not  difcover  more  than  a  father 
in  the  God  of  our  falvation  ?  If  our  hopes  as  Chrif- 
tians  have  any  foundation,  the  idea  of  parent  is  the 
moft  natural  we  can  form  of  the  author  of  all  mercies. 
But  fecondly — It  is  not  enough  that  we  accuftom 
ourfelves  to  contemplate  him  under  this  charader  j 
it  is  our  duty  as  Chriftians  to  call  on  him  as  our 
father,  efteeming  it  our  honour  and  privilege  that 
we  may  invoke  him  by  this  name.     This  is  taken 
for  granted  by  the  apoftle.     "  If,  fays  he,  ye  call  on 
the  Father."     St.  Peter  did  not  exprefs  himfelf  in  this 
language,  becaufe  he  entertained  a  fufpicion  of  their 
piety,  to  whom  his  epiftle  was  addrefled  :  he  knew 
the  practice  of  invoking  the  Father  was  univerfal  at 
that  age.     Our  Lord  left  particular  diredlions  relative 
to  the  duty  of  prayer.     He  exhorted  his  followers 
to  pray  always  ;  and  he  fet  the  example.     Nor  was 
this  all  ;    he  pointed  out  the  fupreme  being  as  the 
only  proper  objed  of  religious  worfliip  ;  and  furnifh- 
ed  a  form  of  prayer,  which,  for  its  limplicity  and 
propriety,   cannot  be  too  much  extolled.     Attracted 
by  his  example,  the  primitive  Chriftians  never  failed 
to  call  on  the  Father.      They  invoked  the  God  of 
heaven  both  in  public  and  private.     Every  Lord's? 
day  they  aftembled  for  the  purpofes   of   devotion. 
And  we  have  the  utmoft  reafon  to  think  their  fami? 
lies,  and  places  of  retirement,  were  the  conftant  wit7 
nefles  of  their  piety. 

Their,  example  Ihould  be  a  rule  for  us.     How  far 

we 


SeRM.  XII J  OF    GOD.  141 

we  have  departed  from  it,  Is  a  truth  too  well  known 
by  every  Chriftian  in  this  affembly.  Numbers,  who 
acknowledge  the  authority  of  the  gofpel,  pay  no  re- 
gard to  its  injunctions  relative  to  this  duty.  Few 
comparatively  call  on  the  Father,  either  in  the  circle 
of  their  friends,  or  in  a  more  retired  place.  It  is 
not  fafliionable  to  be  devout.  Hence  many  are 
aftiamed  of  the  offices  of  piety  j  and  obferve  them 
no  farther  than  decency  requires. 

"  If  I  be  a  father,  where  is  my  honour  ?'*  Where 
are  thofe  tokens  of  refped,  which  are  due  to  me,  if 
I  ftand  in  this  relation  to  my  creatures  ?  Put  this 
queftion  to  your  own  fouls,  you  who  never  raife 
your  eyes  or  voices  to  the  God  of  heaven.  You, 
who  reftrain  prayer,  and  extinguifh  every  fentiment 
of  gratitude  and  affedion,  endeavour  to  reconcile 
your  condud  to  the  feelings  and  relation  of  children. 
There  cannot  be  a  more  obvious  truth,  than  the  ob- 
ligation we  are  all  under,  of  approaching  God  in  the 
name  of  Jefus  Chrift.  His  father  we  fliould  invoke 
as  our  father,  his  God  as  our  God.  When  we  rife 
in  the  morning,  we  ftiould  thank  him  for  his  mer- 
cies, and  implore  their  continuance.  When  we  re- 
tire to  reft,  we  fhould  commend  ourfelves  to  his  fa- 
therly care.  God  fhould  be  in  all  our  thoughts, 
when  we  affemble  with  our  fellow-chriftians.  At 
all  times,  and  on  all  occafions,  we  fliould  feel  difpofed 
to  call  on  the  Father,  with  the  confidence  of  child- 
ren, but  with  the  humility  which  becomes  creatures 
fo  inferior  as  we  are,  and  fo  guilty.  Thus  devout 
were  the  followers  of  Jefus,  in  the  early  age  of  Chrif- 
tianity.  And  how  would  fuch  devotion  enrich  and 
adorn  our  religious  character  ? 

Having  fpoken  of  the  Father,  and  the  homage  he 
yniverfally  received,  the  apoftle  proceeds  to  his  ftrid 

impartiality. 


142  IMPARTIALITY  [SbRM.  XU, 

impartiality.  "  Who  without  refpeft  of  perfons." 
It  is  one  of  the  firft  truths  of  natural  religion,  that 
the  common  parent  of  mankind  is  invariably  juft, 
both  in  the  fentiments  he  entertains  relative  to  his 
creatures,  and  in  the  meafure  of  his  conduct  towards 
them.  He  does  not  love  one,  and  abhor  another, 
without  being  able  to  affign  a  reafon.  There  is  no  par- 
tiality with  him.  Leaving  their  moral  condud  out  of 
the  queftion,  all  the  children  of  men  ftand  on  the  fame 
footing.  The  moft  deipifed  and  miferable  wretch 
on  earth,  is  as  dear  to  him  as  the  higheft  potentate. 
He  knows  none  of  thofe  diftindions,  which  are  the 
offspring  of  human  pride.  With  the  fame  eye  he 
regards  the  prince  and  the  beggar,  the  mailer  and 
the  fervant,  the  prieft  and  the  people.  With  equal 
eye  he  beholds  all  the  dwellers  on  the  earth.  Of 
one  blood  having  made  all  nations  that  inhabit  the 
globe,  he  furveys  them  as  one  common  parent,  ready 
to  accept  ail  who  fear  him,  and  work  righteoufnefs, 
whatever  be  their  country,  their  complexion,  their 
climate,  their  form  of  government,  or  their  advan- 
tages for  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  their  duty.  God 
is  incapable  of  partiality.  We  think  he  muft  enter 
into  all  our  narrow  prejudices  ;  but  we  greatly  dif- 
honour  him  when  we  fuppofe  any  fuch  thing. 

In  the  facred  writings,  the  point  now  under  con- 
iideration  is  particularly  maintained.  All  partiality, 
prejudices  of  every  kind,  are  there  infinitely  removed 
from  the  character  of  God.  This  is  the  language 
both  of  the  old  teftament  and  the  new  :  "  There  is 
no  refpecl  of  perfons  with  him.'*  Inllances  are  nu- 
merous, where  this  honourable  teftimony  is  borne  to 
the  divine  charafter.  Thus  we  read  in  the  book  of 
Chronicles  :  "  There  is  no  iniquity  with  the  Lord 
our  God,  nor  refpecl  of  perfons,  nor  taking  of  gifts"; 

and 


Serm.  XIL]  of  god,  14^ 

and  the  fame  truth  is  repeated  in  the  eplftle  to  the 
Ephelians  :  "  Knowing  that  your  mafter  is  in  heaven^ 
neither  is  there  refped  of  perfons  with  him."  And 
again,  Coloffians ;  "  He  that  doeth  wrong,  ihall  re- 
ceive for  the  wrong  which  he  hath  done  ;  and  there 
is  no  refpecb  of  perfons/*  Many  other  inftances 
might  be  produced,  but  it  is  unneceffary  :  every  one 
knows  that  partiality  is  a  weaknefs,  and  therefore 
cannot,  without  great  injuftice,  be  afcribed  to  God. 

True  it  is,  the  fupreme  being  expreffes  a  particu- 
lar regard  for  fome  of  his  creatures.  Some,  in  his 
infinite  wifdom,  he  evidently  prefers  to  others;  but, 
this  preference  arifes  folely  from  moral  confidera- 
tions.  The  man  of  piety  and  virtue,  the  man  who 
fears  him,  honours  his  fon  Jefus  Chrift,  and  con- 
forms his  temper  and  life  to  the  gofpel,  is  in  high 
favour  with  the  bleffed  God.  As  the  fcripture  ex- 
preffes it,  his  eye  is  continually  upon  the  righteous  ; 
and  his  countenance  beholdeth  the  upright.  On  the 
other  hand,  his  face  is  fet  againft  them,  who  do  evil  c 
the  unjuft,  the  impious,  and  the  profane  man,  is  the 
object  of  his  deteflation.  But  this  argues  no  par- 
tiality :  it  is  proper,  and  agreeable  to  the  nature  of 
things,  that  God  fhould  love  his  own  image,  where- 
ever  it  appears  ;  and  juilice  demands  that  he  con- 
demn and  ftigmatize  vice,  whether  in  man  or  a 
fuperior  being.  Admitting,  therefore,  that  all  do 
not  enjoy  the  fame  degree  of  favour  with  the  Al- 
mighty, it  will  not  follow  that  there  is  refped  of 
perfons  with  him. 

The  apoftle  proceeds — "  Judgeth  according  to 
every  man's  work.'*  The  divine  impartiality  is  now 
apparent  ;  but  it  will  be  flill  more  fo  at  the  great 
day.  When  all  nations  fliall  appear  before  his  tri- 
bunal, then  will  they  receive  according  to  the  deeds 

done 


144-  1  IMPARTIALITY  [SeRM.  XlL 

done  in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good,  or  whether 
they  be  evil.  God  will  not  condemn  or  acquit  upon 
fuch  grounds,  as  would  perhaps  influence  a  human 
fentence.  At  that  great  and  folemn  day,  it  will  not 
be  inquired  what  religious  opinions  a  man  held,  in 
what  manner  he  worfliipped  God,  to  what  particular 
denomination  of  Chriftians  he  belonsred,  but  how  he 
difcharged  his  duty  towards  God,  and  towards  man. 
The  fupreme  judge  will  approve  no  one,  merely  be- 
caufe  he  happened  to  be  born  of  chriftian  parents, 
or  drew  his  firft  breath  in  a  chriftian  country.  Nor 
will  he  condemn  any  one,  becaufe  he  did  not  come 
into  the  world  under  the  fame  advantages.  To  the 
Jew,  it  will  never  be  imputed  as  a  fault  that  he  was 
born  of  unbelieving  parents ;  nor  to  the  Gentile, 
that  he  was  educated  in  the  groffeft  fuperftition. 
Their  veneration  for  an  impious  impoftor  will  never 
be  charged  as  a  crime  upon  thofe,  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  born  Mahometans.  Nor  will  the  papift 
fare  the  worfe  for  honeftly  believing  the  Romilh  re- 
ligion. God  orders  the  circumftances  of  our  birth 
and  education  ;  and  I  appeal  to  any  man,  whether  it 
would  not  be  hard  that  a  perfon  fhould  be  condemned 
for  what  he  could  not  poffibly  prevent.  We  are 
Chriftians  ;  but  had  we  been  born  in  other  parts  of 
the  world,  we  fhould  have  entertained  very  different 
opinions.  Had  fome  part  of  Afia  been  the  place  of 
our  nativity,  the  prefumption  is,  we  fhould  have 
been  profefled  Mahometans.  Had  we  been  born  in 
the  wilds  of  our  own  country,  we  ftiould  have  been 
Pagans.  And  our  religion  would  have  been  that  of 
the  church  of  Rome,  had  we  drawn  our  firft  breath, 
or  received  our  education,  in  a  catholic  country. 
From  thefe  confiderations  it  muft  be  evident,  that 
God  will  obferve  fome  other  rule  of  judging  than 

the 


SeRM.  XIIJ  OF     GOD.  145 

the  mere  circumftances  of  our  birth,  or  the  religious 
opinions,  which  are  firft  inftiiled  into  our  minds. 

I  HAVE  been  more  particular  upon  this  lubjecl,  be- 
caule  we  are  fo  apt  to  judge  and  condemn  each  other 
for  thinking  differently  on  points  of  religion.  It  is 
a  faift  that  We  do  differ,  in  fentiment  ;  and  it  is  no 
lefs  certain,  that  this  difference  has  given  occafion  to 
many  hard  thoughts,  and  uncharitable  cenfures. 
Thofe,  v/ho  embraced  one  opinion,  have  extinguiflied 
all  charity  for  thole,  who  dilfented  from  them  j  and 
they,  in  their  turn,  have  been  equally  fevere.  Thus 
has  the  caufe  of  real  religion  fufFered,  and  God  him- 
felf  been  made  a  party  in  our  fenfelefs  difputes. 

But  of  this  we  may  be  certain,  that  "  he  will 
judge  every  man  according  to  his  works."  No 
Chriilian  will  be  condemned  for  thinking  wrong  ; 
but  he  certainly  will  for  acting  contrary  to  the  gof- 
pel.  An  error  in  fpeculation  does  not  imply  a 
wicked  heart  :  nor  does  it  follow,  that  a  man  will 
adorn  the  religion  of  Jefus,  becaufe  he  happens  to 
have  juft  and  rational  fentiments  of  that  religion. 
The  head  is  one  thing,  and  the  heart  another  ;  and 
God  looketh  at  the  heart.  The  great  point  with 
him,  and  what  will  finally  determine  our  fentence, 
is  the  moral  ifate  of  our  minds,  and  the  courfe  of 
action  we  have  purfued  under  the  light  and  advan- 
tages bellowed  upon  us. 

Remember  then,  my  fellow-chriftians,  the  ap- 
proaching judgment  of  the  great  day.  Remember 
who  will  be  your  judge  ;  that  God,  with  Vv'hom  is  no 
refpecl  of  perfons.  And  bear  in  mind  his  equitable 
rule  of  judging,  and  the  grounds  upon  which  he  will 
approve  or  condemn  ;  punifn  or  reward,  if  you 
have  done  well,  you  will  certainly  be  accepted,  though 
poiTibly  you  may  have  thought  wrong.  If  you  have 
T  done 


14^  IMPARTIALITY  pERM.  XIL 

done  ill,  you  will  be  condemned,  though  pofiibly  you 
may  have  thought  right.  Your  pradlce  will  deter- 
mine your  fate.  As  you  have  lived  in  this  world, 
fo  will  you  be  happy  or  miferable  in  the  ftate  ap- 
proaching. If  you  have  loved  the  Lord  Jefus  in  fin- 
cerity,  and  endeavoured,  according  to  your  befr 
knowledge,  to  obey  his  commands,  you  will  ihare  his 
glory  and  happinefs.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
have  openly  and  habitually  violated  your  duty,  you 
will  be  caft  into  outer  darknefs,  and  be  as  miferable 
as  you  are  guilty.  In  the  former  cafe,  it  will  not  be 
objected  againft  you,  that  with  the  truths  of  the  gof- 
pel,  you  embraced  forne  errors  :  nor,  in  the  latter,, 
will  it  avail  you  to  fay  your  faith  was  pure,  while 
your  pra^ice  v/as  notorioufly  corrupt. 

Our  prad:ice,  my  hearers,  is  every  thing  with 
that  being:,  v/ho  judgeth  righteous  judgment.  The 
external  circumftances  of  our  lives  are  of  little  con- 
fequence  ;  but  it  is  of  the  laft  moment,  that  the  lives  1 
we  live  in  the  flcfh,  be  according  to  the  gofpel.  Bet- 
ter were  it  to  be  a  fober  Heathen,  than  a  wicked 
Chriftian.  They,  who  have  finned  under  the  light 
of  the  gofpel,  will  be  fever ely  puniflied  5  their  guilt 
is  beyond  meafure  increafed  by  their  fuperior  know- 
ledge. It  becomes  us,  therefore,  to  pay  a  particular 
attention  to  our  practice  ;  for  if  we  adorn  the  gofpel 
hy  our  lives,  we  have  reafon  to  expect  ineffable  fe- 
licity :  if  we  do  not,  an  aggravated  condemnation. 

The  apoftle  concludes — "  Pafs  the  time  of  your 
fojourning  here  in  fear."  Life  is  a  journey  ;  and  j 
we  are  all  pilgrims  and  ftrangers.  Here  ^ve  have  na 
abiding  place,  but  look  for  one,  v/hich  is  to  come.. 
The  prefent  life  may  be  juftly  ftyled  the  infancy  of 
our  being,  a  mere  prelude  to  exiftence.  We  arc 
born  into  the  world,  rapidly  we  increafe  to  man- 

hood,^ 


Sekm.  Xnj  OF  eois.  147 

iiopd,  old  age  foon  overtakes  us,  \vc  return  to  the 
duft,  in  a  moment  we  are  forgotten.  This  fad  has 
Jed  many  to  fpeak  of  human  life  in  very  humiliating 
terms.  The  pfalmift  fays,  "I  am  a  ftranger  with 
thee,  and  a  fojourner,  as  all  my  fathers  were."  The 
fame  mortifying  truth  he  repeats  on  another  occa- 
fion  :  "  We  are  ftrangers  before  thee,  and  fojourn- 
ers,  as  were  all  our  fathers  ;  out  days  on  the  earth 
are  as  a  fhadow,  and  there  is  none  abiding.'*  Of  all 
ihe  fimilitudes  under  which  life  is  reprefented,  none 
is  more  ftriking  than  that  of  a  journey.  We  do 
travel  on  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  When 
wearied,  we  lit  down  and  refrefh  ourfelves  ;  and  to 
vary  our  journey,  we  now  and  then  crop  a  flower 
as  we  pafs  along.  But  ftill  we  are  travellers,  and 
can  exped  no  very  comfortable  accommodation,  till 
we  arrive  at  our  native  home.  Heaven  is  that 
home  ;  and  happy  for  us,  if  w^e  have  made  any  con- 
fiderable  advances  towards  it. 

Such  being  our  prefent  ftate,  and  future  defiina- 
tion,  the  admonition  of  the  apoftle  comes  with  pe- 
culiar force  :  "  Pafs  the  time  of  your  fojourning 
here  in  fear.^'  This  naturally  fallows  from  the  con- 
fideratlon,  that  God  will  judge  the  world  ;  and  that 
he  will  punilh  or  reward  according  to  our  works. 
Had  he  any  other  rule  of  judging,  we  might  poflibly 
have  reafon  for  confidence.  Had  he  revealed  it  by 
his  fon,  that  our  religious  opinions,  the  feci  we  be- 
long to,  or  any  thing  Ihort  of  faith,  repentance,  and 
a  holy  life,  would  be  the  ground  of  his  approbation, 
there  would  be  no  occalion  for  diftruft,  or  any 
doubts  refpeding  our  moral  ftate.  Every  man  could 
tell  whether  he  held  particular  dodrines,  whether  he 
was  a  papift  or  a  proteftant,  a  church-man,  or  a  dif. 
fenter.     But  when  the  general  tenor  of  his  life  is 

fcrioully 


14^  IMPARTIALITY    OF    GOD.  [SeRM.  XII. 

ferioufly  examined,  it  is  not  fo  eafy  to  obtain  fatis- 
fa(5lion.  The  befl  man  will  perceive,  that  in  fo  many 
things  he  offends,  that  in  io  many  refpefts  the 
temper  of  his  mind  is  unlike  to  that  of  Jefus 
Chrifl:  ;  that  in  fo  many  inftances  he  is  uncon- 
formed  to  the  gofpel,  that  he  muft  have  man)^  tor- 
menting fufpicions,  whether  he  be  meet  for  the  in- 
heritance of  the  faints  in  light. 

Hence  the  propriety  of  this  admonition  :  "  Pafs 
'the  time  of  your  fojourning  here  in  fear."  Do  not 
prefume  upon  the  abfolute  fafety  of  your  fpiritual 
ftate.  Do  not  imagine  you  have  acquired  fuch  in- 
vincible habits  of  piety,  that  it  is  impoffible  you 
ihould  fall.  So  many  have  thought  before  you,  but 
too  foon  have  found  their  miftake.  You  live  in  a 
world  of  trial  and  temptation.  You  have  appetites 
and  paffions  within,  and  objects  without,  fuited  to 
their  gratification.  You  are  continually  liable  to  faU 
from  your  integrity,  and  forfeit  the  characler  you 
now  fullain.  Wherefore,  "  pa^s  the  time  of  your 
fojourning  here  in  fear."  Live  in  fear  of  yourfelves, 
in  fear  of  your  own  ilrength  and  conftancy,  in  fear, 
left,  though  you  now  "  ftand,  you  fliould  foon  fall." 

This  I  take  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  apoftle  ;  per- 
mit me  to  enforce  the  admonition.  The  time,  my 
brethren,  is  iliort  J  yet  a  little  while,  and  we  muft 
take  leave  of  this  world,  and  ail  its  enjoyments.  It 
cannot  be  lonsr,  before  we  muft  return  to  the  duft, 
and  pay  that  debt  which  was  incurred  by  the  firft 
tranfgreftion.  But  after  death  comes  the  judgment. 
We  muft  all  appear  before  the  tribunal  of  our  great 
judge,  and  receive  according  to  our  works.  If,  by  a 
patient  continuance  in  well  doing,  we  have  fought 
for  glory,  honour,  and  immortality,  we  ftiaU  reap 
life  eternal.     If  we  have  been  contentious  and  dif- 

obedient. 


Serm.  XIII.D  christians,  ^e.  149 

obedient,  indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and  an- 
guifli,  will  be  our  portion.  In  pronouncing  fentence, 
the  judge  will  obferve  the  ftricteft  impartiality.  He 
will  acknowled^  no  diflinclion,  but  fuch  as  wc 
previoully  make  ourfelves,  by  the  abufe  or  improve- 
ment of  our  liberty.  Let  us,  therefore,  inftantly 
attend  to  the  bufmefs  of  life,  and  work  out  our  own 
faivation  with  fear  and  trembling.  As  Grangers  and 
Ibjourners,  let  us  not  place  our  affections  on  things 
below  :  nor  fuffer  any  objects  to  divert  us. from  the 
courfe  we  are  purfuing.  But  forgetting  the  things 
which  are  behind,  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race 
iet  before  us,  looking  for  our  reward  in  the  heavenly 
world.  Let  our  weaknefs  ever  difpofe  us  to  watch 
and  be  fober.  Let  us  fear,  left  having  begun  well, 
we  fliould  not  have  patience  and  conftancy  to  per- 
fevere.  Thus  fojourning  in  fear,  we  fliould  be  pre- 
pared to  meet  our  judge,  fliould  be  entitled  to  his 
approving  fentence,  and  be  quahfied  for  that  fuperior 
and  never  ending  felicity,  which  was  prepared  for  us 
before  the  world  began  ! 

^eimoii  XIII. 

Chriiiians  not  of  the  World, 

John  xvii.   16. 

S^    THEY    ARE    NOT    OF    THE    WORLD,    EVEN    AS    I    AM 
NOT    OF    THE    WORLD.'* 

THESE  words  were  uttered  by  our  bleffed 
Saviour,  in  a  folemn  prayer,  which  he  ad- 
dreffed  to  his  heavenly  father,  in  behalf  of  his  apof- 
tles.     The  time  of  his  crucifixion  drawing  nigh,  he 

could 


J5<5  CHRISTIANS   NOT  [SeRM.  XIII. 

could  not  leave  them,  without  this  teftimony  of  his 
affecHonatc  regards.  In  a  moft  folemn  manner,  he, 
therefore,  commends  them  to  the  providential  care 
of  the  fupreme  being,  intreating  that  they  might  be 
fupported  under  the  reparation,  which  was  foon  to 
take  place  ;  that  they  might  be  kept  from  evil ;  and 
that  their  pious  and  benevolent  labours  might  be 
crowned  with  fuccefs.  His  words  are,  "  I  pray  not 
for  the  Vv-orid,  but  for  them  which  thou  haft  given 
me  ;  for  they  are  thine.  I  pray  not  that  thou 
fhouldcft  take  them  out  of  the  world,  but  that  thou 
fhouldcft  keep  them  from  the  evil."  The  text  fol- 
lows ;  *^  They  are  not  of  the  world,  even  as  I  am 
not  of  the  world."  I  ftiall  not  detain  you  with 
any  laboured  remarks  on  this  excellent  prayer.  It  is 
fufficient  to  fay,  that  nothing  could  be  more  expref- 
five  of  that  piety  towards  God,  and  that  benevolence 
towards  man,  which  polTelTed  the  heart  of  our  di- 
vine mafter. 

To  explain  the  words  of  the  text,  and  to  make 
It  a  lefTon  of  inftrud:ion  to  ourfelves,  is  my  defign  in 
the  following  difcourfe.  "  They  are  not  of  the 
world,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world."  I  fhall, 
firft,  conlider  how  it  is  true  of  our  Saviour,  that  he 
was  not  of  the  world  :  and,  fecondly,  in  what  fenfe 
the  fame  remark  will  apply  to  his  followers. 

That  our  divine  Lord  "  was  not  of  the  world," 
is  a  truth,  v/hich  will  be  difputed  by  none,  who  ad- 
mit his  high  pretenfions  as  the  Son  of  God.  His 
origin  was  celeftial ;  his  religion  was  from  above ; 
his  converfation  was  in  heaven  ;  and  his  motives  and 
principles  of  adion  were  worthy  of  his  facred  char- 
acter and  office.  In  fpeaking  of  himfelf,  he  often 
takes  occalion  to  remark,  that  he  defcended  from 
heaven,  that  he  might  bear  witnefs  of  the  truth  ; 

and 


Serm.XIIIJ  or  the  world.  151 

and  accomplifii  the  falvation  of  mankind.  In  fpeak- 
ing  of  his  dodrines,  he  takes  particular  care  to  in- 
form us,  that  they  were  communicated  from  above  ; 
and  confequently,  were  not  properly  his  own,  but 
his  who  fent  him.  His  commandments  he  exprefsly 
afcribes  to  the  fame  authority.  And,  as  to  his  fpirit 
and  behaviour,  in  no  inftance  were  they  conformed 
to  the  tafte  of  the  world,  or  to  the  principles,  which 
govern  thofe,  who  feek  no  other  good  than  human 
applaufe.  Knowing  what  is  in  man,  he  did  not  aim 
to  pleafe,  but  to  reform  him.  And  he  always  feemed 
to  ad  under  this  imprefiion,  that  "  the  friendlhip  of 
the  world  is  enmity  to  God/* 

Had  our  Saviour  been  of  the  world,  he  would 
have  accommodated  his  dodrines  to  the  corrupt  ftata 
of  the  age,  in  which  he  appeared.  With  the  fad- 
ducees,  he  would  have  denied  a  future  ftate  j  and  en- 
couraged a  life  of  linful  pleafure.  Or,  with  the 
pharifees,  he  would  have  extolled  the  tradition  of 
the  elders  ;  would  have  recommended  long  prayers, 
and  an  oftentatious  charity  ;  would  have  counte- 
nanced ads  of  injuftice,  by  fome  fpecious  fidion  5 
would  have  furnifhed  arguments  for  an  inveterate 
hatred  or  contempt  of  all,  who  were  not  of  the  Jew- 
rfli  nation,  or  religion  ;  and  would  have  juftified  a 
zeal  for  rites  and  forms,  not  only  to  the  negled,  but 
at  the  expenfe,  of  common  morality.  Had  our  Sav- 
iour been  of  the  world,  he  would  have  inflamed  the 
feditious  and  fadious  fpirit  of  his  countrymen  ;  and, 
it  is  poflible,  he  might  have  accepted  the  crown, 
when  it  was  offered  to  him  by  the  multitude.  But 
he  had  not  the  views  and  principles,  which  fway 
the  great  body  of  mankind.  Crowns  and  fceptres 
had  no  charms  in  his  eyes  ;  and  riches  and  honours 
he  could  view  with  a  noble  indifference,     Whilft  in 

the 


tS^  CHRISTIANS    NOT  [SeRM.  XUL 

the  world,  he  could,  therefore,  rife  fuperior  to  it  : 
and  he  could  profecute  the  great  work  of  our  falva- 
tion,  without  fufFering  any  thing  to  divert  his- 
thotights  from  fo  glorious  an  undertaking. 

So  far  exalted  above  the  world,  no  wonder  he 
experienced  its  envy  and  hatred.  With  no  other 
guide,  but  truth  ;  with  no  other  rule  of  adion,  but 
the  rule  of  righteoufnefs  ;  and  with  no  other  object, 
but  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  mankind, 
we,  cannot  be  furprifed  at  any  thing  which  befel 
Jbaiti:)s  How  was  he  to  fucceed  with  the  world,  who 
was  cohtinually  expofmg  its  vices  ?  How  was  he  to 
fucceed  with  the  great,  who  was  alv/ays  pouring  con- 
tempt on  human  greatnefs  ?  And  how  was  he  to 
ingratiate  himfelf  with  the  multitude,  who  was  gen- 
eroufly  endeavouring  to  fet  them  right  in  the  con- 
cerns of  religion  ;  and  to  expofe  the  wicked  arts  of 
thofe,  to  whom  they  had  blindly  furrendered  both 
their  confciences  and  underftandings  ?  When  we 
conlider  the  manner,  in  which  the  Son  of  God  ex- 
ecuted his  oifice  ;  the  example  which  he  difplayed  j 
and  the  principles  upon  which  he  aded,  we  cannot 
wonder  that  he  finifhed  his  life  on  the  crois.  Had 
he  been  of  the  world,  the  world  would  have  heard 
him.  Biit  his  life  and  doctrines  being  a  continual 
cenfure  of  the  age,  we  might  rationally  conclude, 
that  he  would  be  hated,  defamed,  perfecuted,  and 
that  every  art  would  be  employed  to  compafs  his 
deftruclion. 

But  I  proceed  to  inquire,  fecondly,  in  wha-t  fenfe 
it  may  be  faid  of  his  followers,  that  "  they  are 
not  of  the  world.'*  Of  the  apoflles,  this  might  be  faid 
with  obvious  propriety.  They  were  fucceflbrs  of 
Jefus  Chrift,  and  had  received  a  commilhon  to  preach 
his  religion  ;  and  to  bear  witnefs  to  the  fame  truths, 

ill 


SeRM.  XIIIO  OF    THE    WORLD.  I^^ 

in  defence  of  which  he  gave  up  his  life.  They  were 
going  forth  to  tebuke  the  wickednefs  of  mankind ; 
and  to  act  the  fame  unpopular  part,  which  had 
brought  lb  much  odium  on  their  great  leader.  Jefus 
Chrifl  had  laid  the  foundation  of  a  pure  and  heavenly 
religion,  and  it  was  their  office  to  complete  the  fuper- 
ftructure.  If,  therefore,  Chrift  was  not  of  the 
■world,  neither  were  they  of  the  world.  Being  one 
with  him  in  principle,  and  in  views,  the  fame  obfer- 
vation  will  apply  to  both. 

But  the  queftion  ftill  returns,  how  far  the  words 
of  the  text  are  defcriptive  of  Chriftians  in  fucceed- 
ing  ages  ?  And  to  this  I  anfwer,  not  in  a  fenfe,  which 
gives  the  leaft  countenance  to  faperftition,  though  in 
one  which  leaves  the  obfervation  fulEcient  impor- 
tance. To  prove,  that  "  we  are  not  of  the  world," 
it  is  not  necell'ary  that  we  fhould  retire  from  it. 
From  the  text,  fome  have  drawn  this  inference  ;  and 
they  have  accordingly  retreated  to  deferts  ;  have 
affociated  with  wild  beafts ;  and  have  worn  out  their 
lives  in  a  manner  highly  difgraceful  to  human  nature. 
This  particular  kind  of  religious  extravagance  origi- 
nated in  Egypt.  Some  wild  enthufiafts  fet  the  ex- 
ample :  and  it  is  aftonifliing  to  reflect,  how  foon  it 
was  followed  by  multitudes,  in  all  parts  of  the  chrif- 
tian  world.  The  monaftick  inflitutions  originated 
in  this  miftaken  principle.  And  enlightened  as  the 
age  is,  yet,  in  catholic  countries,  numbers  of  both 
fexes  retire  from  fociety  ;  and  fuppofe  that  fuch  a 
mcafure  is  abfolutely  nccefTary,  in  order  to  attain  to 
chriftian  perfedion. 

But  they,  who  are  acquainted  with  the  gofpel, 

will  acknovv'ledge,   that  fuch  a  recefs  from  the  world 

finds  no  countenance  in  the  facred  pages.     So  far 

from  it,  Chriflianity  requires,  that  we  live  in  the 

U  world  i 


^^4  CHRISTIANS  KOT  [SeRM.  XIH. 

world  ;  and  that  we  endeax'^our  to  do  all  the  good  in 
Our  power,  as  long  as  God  ihall  continue  us  on  this 
fide  the  grave.  Formed  for  fociety,  and  for  a<5lion, 
we  have  no  right  to  fly  from  the  former,  or  to  neg- 
ltd:  tlie  latter.  God  fent  us  into  the  world  to  enjoy, 
and  to  do  good ;  and  to  encounter  thofe  trials  and 
temptations,  which  infinite  wifdom  has  adjufi:ed  to 
our  llrength  ;  and  which  are  gracioufly  calculated  to- 
advance  us  to  the  higheft  ftage  of  moral  perfeftion. 
Here,  then,  we  ought  to  take  our  fi;ation,  and  to  ad: 
our  part.  We  fhould  remember,  if  lofi:  to  the  worlds 
we  muft  be  loft  to  the  great  ends  of  religion.  And 
under  this  conviction,  we  fiiould  addrefs  our  hea- 
venly father  in  the  language  of  his  fon  :  "  We  pray 
not,  that  thou  wouldeft  take  us  out  of  the  world, 
but  that  thou  wouldeft  keep  us  from  evil."  I  would 
appeal  to  any  man  of  refle<5i;ion,  whether  this  is  not 
reafonable  ?.  And  I  would  afk  the  Chriftian,  whether 
it  is  not  true  ? 

Again — ^To  make  it  appear,  that  we  are  not  of 
the  world,  it  is  not  neceflary  that  we  fhould  abfo-^ 
lutely  refufe  its:  riches,  honours,  and  pleafures,  when 
they  may  be  obtained  without  injuftice,  and  enjoyed' 
without  injury  to  any  one.  The  bounty  of  God 
has  provided  many  good  things  for  his  rational  ofF- 
ipring.  A  Chriftian,  therefore,  may  furely  partake 
of  thofe  good  things,  in  common  with  others.  To- 
enjoy  with  moderation  and  with  gratitude,  is  to 
obey  :  for  it  is  a  facred  truth  of  our  religion,  that 
nothing  proceeding  from  God  is  to  be  refufed  ;  but 
that  every  favour  is  to  be  received  with  thankfgiving. 

And  the  fame  liberty  has  the  Chriftian,  in  regard 
to  wealth,  power,  and  fame.  He  is  under  no  obliga- 
tion to  refufe  riches,  when  they  defcend  to  him  ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  fociety  ;  or  offer  themfelves  as 

the 


Serm.  XIIIJ  of  the  world.  155 

the  natural  reward  of  induftry  and  frugality.     TIic 
gofpel  does  not  oblige  him  to  decline  an  honourable 
office,  when  the  voice  of  his  country  calls  him  to  it^ 
and  when  he  is  confcious,  that  his  abilities  qualify 
him  for  the  faithful  difcharge  of  its  duties.     Nor  is 
he  bound  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  human  applaufe  ;  and 
to  regard  a  good  or  ill  name  v/ith  perfed  indiffer- 
ence.    Wealth,  in  the  hands  of  a  Chriftian,  is  often 
an  unfpeakable  blefling  to  fociety.     Power,  when  ex- 
ercifed  by  fuch  a  perfon,  is  always  fubfervient  to  the 
great  ends  of  government  :    and  many  advantages 
refult,  both  to  individuals  and  the  community,  when 
the   public  confidence    is   not  withheld   from   real 
merit  ;    and  when  a  good  name  is  judicioufly  be- 
ilowed.     It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  the  religion  of  a 
Chriftian  does  not  require  an  abfolute  infenlibility  to 
thofe  outward  good  things,  which  have  fo  many 
charms  in  the  eyes  of  others. 

Finally — To  juftify  the  defcriptlon  in  the  text, 
it  is  not  expected,  that,  in  matters  of  indifference, 
a  Chriftian  fliould  affedl  a  feverity,  or  even  a  iigular- 
ity  of  behaviour.  It  may  be  tridy  faid  of  him,  that 
^'  he  is  not  of  the  world,"  whilft  he  refembles  the 
men  of  the  world  in  all  points,  where  duty  and  con- 
fcience  are  not  concerned.  In  his  drefs,  in  his  lan- 
guage, and  in  his  manners,  as  a  member  of  the  com- 
munity, he  is  under  no  obligation  to  deviate  from 
■eftabliflied  forms.  Our  blelTed  Saviour  was  habited 
like  the  Jews  of  his  day,  and  fpake  their  language. 
And  though  he  rejed:ed  the  religious  innovations  of 
the  fcribes  and  pharifees  ;  yet  it  does  not  appear,  that 
he  ever  departed  from  thofe  common  forms,  which 
xegulated  the  mutual  intercourfe  of  the  Jews  ;  and 
which  were,  in  themfelves,  indifferent.  His  followers, 
then,  need  not  aim  at  a  fingularity,  which  fo  pure  a 

charader 


1-^6  CHRISTIANS    NOT  [SeRM.  Xllf. 

character  never  afFefted.  They  need  not  ftudy  to  be 
unlike  others  in  every  thing,  becailfe,  in  the  concerns 
of  religion,  they  are  to  aft  independently  ;  and  to 
have  no  refped  to  the  opinions  and  praftices  of  an 
evil  world. 

Having  thus  fhown  what  is  not  Implied  in  the 
words  before  us,  I  now  proceed  to  their  true  import : 
and,  on  a  variety  of  accounts,  it  may  be  fatd  of 
Chriftians  univerfally,  that  "  they  are  not  of  the 
world."  In  the  firfl  place,  they  do  not  look  for  their 
higheft  happinefs  in  the  prefent  ft  ate.  Men,  who  dif- 
own  all  revelation,  and  imagine  that  death  will  put  a 
period  to  their  exiftence,  muft  expecl  all  their  happi- 
nefs On  this  fide  the  grave.  To  ftich,  therefore,  the 
counfel  of  the  wife  man  would  not  be  unacceptable  : 
*'  Then  I  commended  mirth  ;  becaufe  a  man  hath  no 
better  thing  under  the  fun,  than  to  eat,  and  to  drink, 
and  to  be  merry  :  for  that  fliall  abide  with  him  of 
his  labour,  the  days  of  his  life,  which  God  giveth  | 
him  under  the  fun."  This  is  all  his  portion,  upon  ' 
fuppofition,  that  the  prefent  ftate  is  final.  But  if  we 
admit  the  divine  authority  of  the  gofpel,  and  cordi- 
ally affent  to  its  difcoveries  refpeding  futurity,  we 
muft  have  a  different  view  of  things  ;  and  muft  ad 
on  different  principles.  And  this  is  the  cafe  with 
every  fincere  Chriftian.  He  confiders  this  ftate  as 
only  preparatory  ta  a  better.  He  regajds  all  its 
good  things  as  an  earneft  of  future  bleflings  ;  and 
all  its  evils,  as  a  falutary  difcipline.  And  for  this 
reafon,  he  does  not  expect  to  be  put  in  pofleilion  Of 
his  chief  good,  till  the  prefent  ftate  of  trial  fliall  be 
brought  to  a  clofe. 

Here,  then,  is  a  very  important  fenfe,  in  which 
the  defcription  in  the  text  will  apply  to  all  true 
Chriftians,     They  are  not  of  the  world.     They  do 

not 


$£RM.  XinJ  OF  THE  -^'ORLD.  1 57 

not  look  for  their  happinefs  in  any  thing,  which  the 
world  can  beftow.  If  favoured  with  its  good  things, 
they  receive  and  enjoy  them  with  gratitude.  But 
ilill  they  have  far  better  things  in  profpeft.  They 
expect  to  partake  of  pleafures  far  fuperior  to  thofe  of 
time  and  fenfe  ;  pleafures,  which  will  be  fubjeft  to 
no  interruption  ;  pleafures,  which  are  fuited  to  the 
nature  of  a  moral,  intelligent  being  ;  and  pleafures, 
which  will  never  end.  Such  expeftations  does  the 
gofpel  authorize  us  to  entertain.  He,  therefore,  who 
firmly  believes  the  gofpel,  and  feels  its  facred  in- 
fluence, will  ha^e  a  fteady  regard  to  the  heavenly 
happinefs.  And  the  joy,  fet  before  him,  will  wean 
him  from  this  world  ;  and  will  excite  him  to  iifc 
the  utmoft  diligence  to  fecure  an  inheritance,  whicli 
is  "  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  which  fadeth  not 
away." 

Secondly — ^The  Chriftian  is  not  of  the  world,  in- 
afmuch  as  he  does  not  follow  its  evil  example.  It  is 
mortifying  to  refle6l  how  much  wickednefs  there  is 
in  fociety,  notwithftanding  the  various  meafu.res, 
which  God  has  employed  to  reforni  his  creatures. 
What  is  the  hiftory  of  mankind,  but  a 'detail  of  their 
vices  and  miferies  ?  In  how  great  a  degree  has 
moral  evil  abounded,  even  in  thofe  ages,  which  are 
efteemed  comparatively  virtuous  ?  What  daring 
crimes  have  been  committed  by  the  prefent  genera- 
tion ?  And  what  an  evident  want  of  principle  is 
there,  even  in  countries,  where  the  means  of  know- 
ledge and  virtue  have  been  moft  liberally  difiufed  ? 
It  is  fcarcely  credible,' that  the  religion  and  example 
of  Jefus  Chrift  fhould  have  lefs  influence  on  fociety, 
than  at  the  prefent  age. 

But  the  Chriftian,  notwithftanding  the  general 
prev'alence  and  contagion  of  vice,  will  keep  himfelf 

unfpotted 


158  CHRISTIAl^S  NOT  fSERM.  XIIL 

unfpotted  of  tlie  world.  He  "  will  not  follow  the 
multitude  to  do  evil."  Like  fome  of  thofe  eminent 
worthies,  which  are  immortalized  in  the  facred 
pages,  he  will  oppofe  the  torrent  of  corruption  ;  and 
will  fliine  as  a  light  in  the  midft  of  a  crooked  and 
perverfe  generation.  Examples  of  impiety  and  in- 
fidelity will  neither  fhake  his  faith,  nor  corrupt  his 
morals.  He  will  not  be  unjuft,  becaufe  others  prac- 
tife  iniquity.  He  will  not  be  idle,  intemperate,  and 
diffolute,  though  he  might  have  the  countenance  of 
jthe  multitude.  The  vices  of  others  will  have  no 
other  effect  on  his  mind,  than  to  excite  his  abhor- 
rence of  moral  evil ;  to  endear  his  religion  to  him ; 
and  to  confirm  his  good  refolutions.  An  exception, 
therefore,  to  the  profligacy  of  the  age,  the  Chriftian 
is  certainly  not  of  the  world.  He  does  not  live  as 
the  men  of  the  world  generally  do.  To  their  exam- 
ple he  oppofes  that  of  his  bleffed  mafter.  And  he  fo 
conducts,  as  to  convince  others  that  temptation  is 
reliftable  ;  and  that  evil  communications  do  not  ne* 
celTarily  corrupt  good  manners. 

Thirdly — The  obfervation  in  the  text  will  re- 
ceive further  illullration  from  this  conlideration,  that 
the  Chriftian  does  not  ftudy  to  pleafe  the  world,  by 
conforming  to  its  corrupt  principles  and  maxims. 
He  does  not  inquire  what  will  render  him  popular  ; 
what  will  give  him  influence  in  fociety  ;  what  will 
make  his  fortune ;  or  what  will  be  moft  conducive 
to  his  temporal  intereft  or  convenience.  Fame  and 
honour,  power  and  riches,  as  I  have  already  obferved, 
he  is  willing  to  obtain  by  honourable  means.  But 
he  will  accept  of  neither  at  the  expenfe  of  innocence. 
If  the  objeds  of  human  ambition  fhould  meet  him 
in  the  path  of  religion,  he  will  not  probably  reject 
them.     But  he  will  not  turn  either  to  the  right  hand 

or 


SeRM.  XIII.]  0#  THE  WORLD.  159 

or  the  left,  to  poffefs  himfelf  of  any  thing,  which 
human  favour  can  beflow. 

In  this  refped,  the  Chriftian  is  very  unlike  other 
men.  They  are  willing  to  follow  the  dictates  of 
worldly  wifdom,  without  comparing  them  with  the 
dictates  of  confcience.  Thofe  meafures  are,  with 
them,  perfectly  right,  which  will  moft  efFeclually  ac- 
complifli  their  purpofes.  But  the  rules,  which  gov- 
ern the  Chriftian,  are  found  not  in  the  world,  but  in' 
the  gofpel.  They  are  not  the  maxims  of  the  poli- 
tician, but  the  precepts  of  Jefus  Chrift.  How  juftly, 
then,  are  his  true  difciples  defcribed,  as  not  of  the 
world,  even  as  he  was  not  of  the  world  ?  The  Son 
of  God  never  fought  the  favour  of  men,  by  any  fin* 
ful  compliances  with  their  corrupt  prejudices,  or 
principles  of  aftion.  And  every  one,  who  profeffes 
his  religion,  fliould  copy  his  integrity. 

Lastly — ^It  is  natural  for  thofe,  who  are  ChriC. 
tians  in  principle,  to  employ  their  thoughts  on  the 
joys  and  honours  of  another  ftate  ;  to  make  them 
the  fubjecl  of  their  converfation,  and  the  objeft  of 
their  earneft  purfuit.  Regarding  heaven  as  their 
home,  they  feel  like  pilgrims  and  ftrangers  on  the 
earth.  Confequently,  the  changes,  which  take  place 
in  focicty,  do  not  make  that  impreffion  on  their 
minds,  which  they  do  on  the  minds  of  others.  The 
revolutions  of  ftates  and  empires  they  contemplate 
with  chriftian  calmnefs.  And  from  fcenes  of  folly, 
confufion,  and  wickednefs,  they  often  look  forward 
to  a  ftate,  where  the  vices  which  difgrace,  and  the 
paffions  which  agitate  mankind,  will  be  unknown  ; 
and  where  the  benign  influence  of  piety  and  virtue 
will  be  univerfally  felt.  Thus  refigned  to  the  courfe 
of  things  here,  and  intent  on  fecuring  the  bleftings 
promifed  hereafter,  the  Chriftian  may  be  juftly  con- 
fidered  '^  as  not  of  this  world,'*  From 


i6o  CHRISTIANS,  i^c  [Serm.  XIIT. 

From  the  fubjed  of  this  difcourfe,  I  am  naturally 
led  to  urge  the  inquiry,  how  far  the  words  of  our 
Saviour  are  applicable  to  ourfelves.  It  is  the  cafe 
with  many  prefent,  as  well  as  my  (elf,  to  have  made 
a  public  profeffion  of  our  faith  in  the  chriftian  re- 
ligion ;  and  to  have  engaged,  in  the  moft  foiemn 
manner,  to  follow  its  lacred  rules.  But  do  we  verify 
pur  profeffions  by  a  correfponding  courfe  of  beha- 
viour ?  Do  we  look  for  our  chief  good  in  a  future 
ilate  ;  or  are  we  willing  to  have  our  portion  in  this  j 
world  ?  Do  we  prefer  the  pleafures  of  religion  to  the 
pleafures  of  fenfe  ?  Are  we  weaned  from  the  follies 
and  vanities  of  this  world  ;  or,  do  we  feel  their  in- 
fluence in  the  fame  degree  with  others  ;  and  purfue 
them  with  the  fame  ardour  ?  Do  we  refift,  or  do  we 
follow  the  multitude  to  do  evil  ?  What  effed  have 
the  principles  and  practices  of  others  on  our  minds  ? 
Are  we  proof  againft  their  pernicious  maxims  and 
example  ;  or  do  we  refign  ourfelves  up  to  their  fatal 
influence,  rcgardlcfs  of  the  credit  of  our  profeflion, 
and  our  eternal  welfare  ?  It  is  our  privilege,  to  have 
an  explicit  revelation  of  a  future  ftate.  The  confe- 
quences  of  our  adions  we  are  able  to  trace  far  be- 
yond this  tranfitory  life  5  and  we  are  aflured,  that 
we  fliall  be  rewarded  or  puniflied  as  our  works  have 
been.  Does  this  convidion  fortify  us  againfl:  the 
temptations,  which  are  in  the  world  ?  Are  we  alarmed 
at  the  righteous  difpleafure  of  God  ?  And  are  we 
delighted  with  the  profpects  of  glory,  honour,  and 
immortality,  v/hich  are  fet  before  us  in  the  gofpel  ? 
Do  all  thefe  difcoveries,  all  thefc  promifes,  all  thefe 
threatenings,  and  all  thefe  motives,  incline  us  to 
behave  as  followers  of  one,  who  was  from  heaven  ; 
and  as  fubjeds  of  a  "  kingdom  not  of  this  world"  ? 
Judging  frangi  our  temper  and  actions,  what  reply 

fliould 


SeRM.  XIVj     ON  IMPROVING,  a*-;.  j5j 

ihould  we  make  to  thefe  inquiries  ?  Appealing  to  our 
confciences,  will  they  acquit  or  condemn  us  ? 

The  time  will  foon  come,  when  we  muft  anfwer 
for  ourfelves  before  the  tribunal  of  God.  To  be 
prepared,  therefore,  for  that  folemn  fcene,  let  us  give 
the  moft  earneft  heed  to  the  voice  of  infpiration, 
which  addrelTes  us  in  this  language :  "  Love  not  the 
world,  nor  the  things  which  are  in  the  world.  If 
any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  father  is  not 
in  him.  For  all  that  is  in  the  world,  the  lull  of  the 
fleih,  the  luft  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  is  not 
of  the  father,  but  is  of  the  world.  And  the  world 
paffeth  away,  and  the  luft  thereof;  but  he  that  doeth 
the  will  of  God  abideth  forever."  To  this  admoni- 
tion, let  me  add  that  of  the  apoftle,  with  which  I 
conclude  :  "  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world  ;  but 
be  ye  transformed  by  the  renewing  of  your  mind, 
that  ye  may  prove  what  is  that  good,  and  acceptable, 
and  pcrfed  will  of  God." 


)ttmon  XIV. 


On  improving  religious  Advantages. 


Matthew  xiii.   12. 

"  FOR  WHOSOEVER  HATH,  TO  HIM  SHALL  BE  GIVEN, 
AND  HE  SHALL  HAVE  MORE  ABUNDANCE  I  BUT 
WHOSOEVER  HATH  NOT,  FROM  HIM  SHALL  BE 
TAKEN    AWAY,    EVEN    THAT    HE    HATH." 

'T^O  afcertain  the  true  meaning  of  thefe  words,  it 

-*•    is  neceffary  to  confider  their  connexion.     Our 

Lord,  to  accommodate  his  hearers,  renaired  to  the 

W  ■      ^         fea-fide: 


l6z  ON    IMPROVING  [SeRM.  XIV, 

fea-iide  :  and,  attra6led  by  his  fame,  great  multi- 
tudes affembled  to  hear  him.  But  becaufe  there 
were  but  few  among  them,  who  were  able  to  com- 
prehend, or  prepared  to  hear  the  fublime  truths  o£ 
his  reUgion,  he  inflru(fled  them  by  parables.  That 
of  the  hufbandman,  who  went  forth  to  fow,  was 
firft  uttered  and  applied.  Upon  this,  his  difciples 
"  came  and  faid  unto  him,  why  fpeakeft  thou  unto 
them  in  parables  ?'*  Jefus  anfwered,  becaufe  it  is 
given  "  unto  you  to  know  the  myfteries  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ;  but  to  them  it  is  not  given.'* 
The  text  follows  :  "  For  whofoever  hath,  to  him 
fhaU  be  given,  and  he  iliall  have  more  abundance  ;. 
but  whofoever  hath  not,  from  him  fhall  be  taken 
away  even  that  he  hath."  "  Therefore,  fpeak  I  to 
them  in  parables,  becaufe  they  feeing  fee  not  ;  and 
hearing  they  hear  not,  neither  do  they  underftand." 
As  if  our  blefled  mafter  had  faid,  you  inquire  why 
my  private  converfations  with  you  are  fo  clear  and 
explicit,  when  compared  with  my  public  difcourfes- 
The  reafon  is,  you  are  more  difpofed  to  receive  my 
inftruclions  than  others  ;  and  can  bear  truths,  which 
their  prejudices  would  reject.  For  they,  who,  witfe 
honefly  and  fimplicity,  attend  to  my  doctrines ;  who 
treafure  them  up  in  their  hearts,  and  endeavour  to 
make  them  fubfervient  to  the  purpofes  of  religion 
and  virtue,  as  you  do  ;  fuch  perfons  Ihall  have  more 
inftruftion,  and  greater  advantages  continually  af- 
forded them.  But  they,  who  make  no  ufe  of  that 
inftru(5tion  which  is  given  them,  and  do  not  improve 
under  the  advantages  which  they  already  have  (as 
is  the  cafe  with  many  of  my  common  hearers)  they 
fhall  lofe  the  very  means  of  information,  with  which 
they  are  now  favoured.  Therefore  I  fpeak  to  them 
in  parables,  becaufe,  feeing  the  greateft  miracles, 
they 


SeRM.  XIV.]  RELIGIOUS    ADVANTAGES.  iSj 

they  have  not  been  convinced  ;  and  hearing  the 
plaineft  doftrines,  they  would  not  under ftand. 

The  words,  thus  explained,  deferve  our  ferious 
attention.  Indeed,  I  fcarcely  know  a  more  impor- 
tant paffage  of  fcripture.  It  reminds  us  of  our  pri- 
vilege and  our  duty.  It  fliows  us  what  our  benev- 
olent creator  has  done  for  mankind,  and  what  he 
expects  in  return.  And  whilft  it  addreffes  our  hopes 
with  the  affurance  of  his  approbation  and  afliftancej 
it  alarms  our  fears  with  the  declaration,  that  we 
fliall  be  deprived  of  the  means  of  growing  wifer  and 
better,  if  thofe  means  be  ingratefuUy  negleded.  As 
thefe  are  confiderations  of  the  laft  moment,  they 
will  not  be  heard  with  indifference,  as  further  illuf- 
trated  in  the  following  difcourfe. 

First — Our  Saviour  obferves,  "  whofoever  hath^ 
to  him  fhall  be  given,  and  he  fliall  have  more  abun- 
dance.'* If  we  have  derived  fome  information  from 
the  gofpel,  and  made  fome  progrefs  in  religion,  with 
a  difpolition  to  improve,  we  fliall  go  on  towards 
perfection.  Studying  the  facred  writings,  we  fliall 
difcover  new  evidence  of  their  truth,  and  have  an 
increafing  confidence  in  their  divine  infpiration. 
Having  the  love  of  God  in  fome  degree,  and  deliring 
to  experience  this  affedion  in  all  its  fervour,  we 
fliall  eventually  "  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  with 
all  our  foul,  with  all  our  mind,  and  with  all  our 
fl:rength.'*  Having  fome  devotion,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  gofpel,  this  principle  wiU  gain  an  afcen- 
dency  over  others,  and  we  fliall  bear  its  fruits  in 
more  abundance.  Having  fome  refped  for  the  char- 
acter of  Chrift:,  and  defiring  to  feel  our  obligations 
fliill  more  fenfibly,  the  fentiments  of  reverence  and 
gratitude  will  continually  acquire  ftrength.  Having 
fome  knowledge  of  the  truths  of  religion,  and  of 

the 


1 64  ON    IMPROVING  [SeRM.  XlV. 

the  things  which  belong  to  our  peace,  we  fhall  re- 
ceive new  acceffions  of  divine  wifdom  ;  the  light 
within  will  fhine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect 
day.  Having  made  fome  progrefs  in  the  chriftian 
life,  having  gained  fome  triumphs  over  the  world, 
having  acquired  fome  virtues,  and  formed  fome 
habits,  our  lives  will  become  flill  more  conformed 
to  the  gofpel  ;  and  our  charaders  will  be  enriched 
with  new  graces.  New  vidories  will  proclaim  our 
fortitude,  and  fpread  our  glory  :  and  new  qualifica- 
tions for  immortal  happinefs  will  brighten  our  prof- 
peels.  Whatever  we  now  have  in  any  given  mea- 
fure,  we  fliall  have  in  abundance,  if  we  endeavour  to 
retain  the  inftrudions  which  we  have  received,  and 
to  make  a  proper  ufe  of  our  religious  advantages. 
A  fincere  delire  to  improve,  muft  terminate  in  actual 
improvement.  We  cannot  go  backward  in  religion, 
whilft  we  are  endeavouring  to  proceed.  Our  faith 
will  increafe  in  ftrength,  and  our  piety  in  fervour  ; 
our  knowledge,  our  benevolence,  our  purity,  our 
rectitude,  our  humihty  ;  in  a  word,  every  virtue, 
implanted  in  us,  will  gain  vigour,  if  we  have  the  lim- 
plicity  of  Chrift's  early  difciples  ;  and  endeavour, 
like  them,  to  become  wife  to  falvation.  They  had, 
and  to  them  more  was  given.  And  if  we  have  their 
difpofition  to  liften  to  the  great  inftrucler,  and  their 
zeal  to  profit  by  the  gofpel,  we  fliall  make  the  fame 
moral  attainments.  Our  religious  principles  will 
have  a  confirmed  influence  over  our  external  beha- 
viour. And  we  fhall  make  daily  advances  towards 
the  chriftian  ftandard,  in  faith  and  knowledge,  in 
profeffion  and  practice. 

That  "  whofoever  hath,  to  him  fhall  be  given," 
is  an  obfervation  often  verified  in  the  common  con- 
cerns of  life.     It  is  true  in  regard  to  human  knowr 

ledge. 


SeRM.  XIV.]  RELIGIOUS    ADVANTAGES.  165 

ledge.  The  more  information  we  already  have,  the 
more  we  may  acquire.  Every  ftep  in  fcience  facili- 
tates our  progrefs.  Intent  on  improving  our  minds, 
and  diligent  in  the  ufe  of  means,  we  have  an  in- 
creafing  acquaintance  with  every  object,  which, 
invites  our  examination.  Thus  alfo  in  regard  to 
temporal  riches  ;  treafures  already  pofieffed,  lay  a 
foundation  for  ftill  greater  acquifitions.  With  this 
advantage  on  its  fide,  induftry  can  fcarcely  fail  of  the 
moft  ample  reward.  The  obfervation  before  us,  is 
likewife  true,  when  applied  to  human  power  and 
glory.  They,  who,  in  a  certain  degree,  already 
exercife  the  one,  and  refledl  the  other,  have  the 
means  of  rifmg  ftill  higher,  and  of  moving  in  a  ftill 
more  exalted  fphere.  It  is  agreeable  to  the  eftablifli- 
cd  conftitution  of  things,  that  they  who  now  have, 
in  any  refpect,  fhould,  by  a  proper  exertion,  have 
more  abundance. 

But,  in  the  important  concerns  of  religion,  the 
divine  afliftance  may  be  confidently  expected,  if  it  be 
our  earneft  defire  to  add  new  virtues  to  thofe 
which  we  already  poflefs  ;  and  to  be  ftill  more  emi- 
nent as  Chriftians.  The  fupreme  being  will  enable 
us  to  conform  ftill  more  habitually  to  the  laws  and 
example  of  our  bleffed  Saviour.  The  longer  we 
continue  in  this  ftate  of  improvement,  the  more 
effectually  fhall  we  fecure  that  good  part,  which  can- 
not be  taken  from  us.  That  fpirit  which  was  com- 
municated to  Chrift  without  meafure  ;  which  en- 
lightened the  prophets  of  old,  and  the  apoftles  in 
after  times,  is  promifed  to  thofe  who  devoutly  afk  it 
of  God.  And  workers  together  with  it,  we  fliall,  to 
life  the  words  of  the  apoftle,  "  grow  in  grace,'*  and 
continually  lay  up  in  ftore  a  good  foundation  againft 
the  time  to  come. 

In 


%6^  ON    IMPROVING  [SeRM.  XIV.' 

In  this  manner  did  the  primitive  Chriftians  adorn 
the  dodrine  of  the  gofpel ;  and  in  confequence  of 
this  affiftance,  did  they  add  to  their  faith  virtue,  and 
every  good  quality,  which  could  recommend  their 
religion.  The  chriftian  excellencies  were  in  them, 
and  abounded,  becaufe  they  were  zealous  to  im- 
prove, and  the  divine  fpirit  concurred  with  their 
exertions.  From  the  language  of  the  apoflle,  we 
may  learn  what  they  felt,  and  at  what  they  aimed. 
*'  Brethren,  (fays  he)  this  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting 
thofe  things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth 
unto  thofe  which  are  before,  I  prefs  towards  the 
mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in 
Chrift.  Let  us  therefore,  as  many  as  be  perfect,  be 
thus  minded."  They,  who  firft  embraced  the  gofpel, 
were  fully  impreffed  with  the  progreffive  nature  of 
religion.  For  this  reafon,  they  endeavoured  to  fub^ 
jeft  every  thought,  word,  and  adion  to  its  influence. 
And  they  had  the  fatisfadion  to  find,  that  their 
chriftian  diligence  was  not  ineffedual. 

And  imitating  their  endeavours,  we  fhall  have 
their  encouragement  to  perfevere.  Employing  what 
we  now  have  to  the  purpofes  of  religion,  we  Ihall 
have  more  affiftance,  and  more  fuccefs.  As  often  as 
we  look  within,  we  fliall  find  fome  error  correded  ; 
fome  defed  fupplied  ;  fome  pailion  fubdued ;  and 
fome  good  quality  confirmed.  As  often  as  we  re- 
view our  lives,  we  fliall  perceive  their  increafmg 
confiftency  with  our  profeflions.  And  we  fliall  be 
under  no  neceflity  to  go  beyond  ourfelves  to  prove 
the  juftnefs  of  the  remark,  which  has  been  the  fub- 
jed  of  this  difcourfe. 

I  NOW  go  on  to  obferve,  fecondly,  that  "  whofo- 
cver  hath  not,  from  him  fliall  be  taken  away  even 
that  he  hath.'*     That  is,  they  who  make  no  ufe  of 

that 


SeRM.  XlV.jf  RELIGIOUS    ADVANTAGES-  t6f 

that  inftrudlon  which  is  given  to  them,  and  no 
improvement  under  the  advantages  which  they  now 
enjoy,  fo  far  from  expecting  more  inftrudion,  and 
greater  advantages,  may  juftly  apprehend  the  lofs 
of  thofe,  with  which  God  has  indulged  them  ;  in- 
afmuch  as  by  their  ingratitude  and  negled,  they  have 
incurred  the  forfeiture.  As  the  well-difpofed  natur» 
ally  grow  better,  fo  the  carelefs  as  naturally  grow 
worfe.  Indifferent  to  moral  improvement,  and  in* 
attentive  to  the  means,  their  thoughts  will  be  coii'* 
tinually  more  diverted  from  the  concerns  of  religion, 
and  their  hearts  hardened  through  the  deceitfulnefs 
of  fin.  This  was  the  fate  of  thofe  very  people,  to 
whom  the  text  more  immediately  referred.  They 
had  not — that  is,  a  difpofition  to  receive  the  gofpel, 
and  to  walk  according  to  its  precepts — and,  there- 
fore, it  was  taken  from  them,  and  given  to  the  Gen- 
tiles. Miracles,  fufficient  for  their  convidion,  liad 
been  refifted.  They  had  fhut  their  eyes  againft  the 
light,  and  their  ears  againft  the  voice  of  truth. 
With  this  temper  of  mind,  what  could  be  ex* 
peded,  but  that  their  religious  imprefTions,  if  they 
ever  had  any,  fhould  wear  off ;  and  their  religious 
privileges  be  withdrawn.  And  in  this  manner  did 
God  refent  their  perverfenefs.  As  a  nation,  the 
Jews  were  fuffered  to  fill  up  the  meafure  of  their 
iniquity,  till  they  became  ripe  for  deftrudion.  Then 
were  the  divine  threatenino;s  executed.  And  then 
was  taken  from  them  even  that,  which  for  ages  they 
had  enjoyed. 

Their   predeceffors  having  aded  a  Umilar  part, 

experienced  a  iimilar  punifhment.     When  the  infti- 

tutions  of  Mofes  had  loft  their  influence  on  the  minds 

of  the  ancient  people,   they  were  fuffered  to  fall  into 

4tti  the  immoralities  and  fuperftition  of  their  heathen 

neighbours- 


l6S  ON    iMPROVING  fSERM*XIV, 

neighbours.  The  confequence  was,  the  lofs  of  their 
temple,  the  deftrudion  of  their  city,  and  the  flavery 
of  their  perfons  in  a  foreign  land.  The  fupremc 
being  deprived  them  of  the  fpecial  privileges,  with 
which  he  had  once  honoured  them,  becaufe  thofe 
privileges  were  undervalued :  and  becaufe  the  returns 
of  gratitude  and  obedience  were  generally  withheld. 
If  they  had  been  difpofed  to  receive  the  inftructions 
of  Mofes,  and  to  walk  in  his  commandments  and 
ordinances,  the  bleffings  of  that  difpenfation  would 
have  been  enfured  to  them.  They  did  not  lofe  the 
means,  till  they  had  loft  the  fpirit  of  their  religion. 

The  fate  of  countries,  once  chriftian,  may  like- 
wife  be  adduced  in  confirmation  of  the  folemn 
truth  advanced  by  our  Saviour.  In  Afia  were  many 
churches,  where  the  religion  of  Mahomet  is  now 
publicly  profefled.  If  you  examine  the  caufe  of  this 
revolution,  you  will  find  it  in  the  text.  The  Chrif- 
tians  of  thofe  countries  had  not  the  true  fpirit  of 
their  religion,  nor  did  they  fet  a  proper  value  on  its 
means.  Their  zeal  grew  cold  ;  and  their  pradice 
diflionoured  their  profellion.  Unworthy  of  the  pe- 
culiar bleffing  of  the  gofpel,  it  was,  therefore,  taken 
from  them  ;  and  the  artful  inventions  of  an  impof- 
tor  ufurped  its  place. 

•  That  fuch  would  be  the  fate  of  thofe  churches,  is- 
intimated  in  the  book  of  revelation.  John  beheld, 
in  vifion,  their  declining  zeal  and  purity,  and  the 
confequences  v/hich  would  follow.  He,  therefore, 
admonifhes  them  on  the  fubjecl.  Writing  to  the 
Ephelians,  he  fays,  "  I  have  fomewhat  againft  thee, 
becaufe  thou  haft  left  thy  firft  love.  Remember, 
therefore,  whence  thou  art  fallen,  and  repent,  and 
do  the  firft  works  ;  or  elfe  I  will  come  unto  thee 
quickly,  and  will  remove  thy  candleftick  out  of  hi 

place. 


SerM.  XIVJ  RELIGIOUS    ADVANTAGES.  1 69 

place,  except  thou  repent."  Other  churches  are  af- 
terwards admoniflied.  And  judgments,  which  have 
lince  been  executed,  are  repeatedly  denounced.  To 
excite  thefe  Chriftians  to  acl  in  character,  they  are 
threatened  with  the  lofs  of  thofe  fpiritual  blellings, 
with  which  they  had  been  favoured  through  the  in- 
dulgent providence  of  God.  The  admonition  was 
ineffedual ;  for  which  reafon  they  were  puniflied 
with  the  lofs  both  of  their  civil  and  religious  privi- 
leges ;  and  Mahomet  became  the  inftrument  of  al- 
niighty  vengeance. 

And  from  the  fame  caufes  we  may  always  antici- 
pate the  fame  effeds.  If  wc  are  fo  thoughtlefs  and 
ingrateful  as  to  fet  light  by  divine  revelation,  we 
may  expedl  to  lofe  even  that  which  we  now  have. 
Our  religion  will  eventually  lofe  its  moral  influencCj 
though  fome  of  its  forms  may  remain.  With  a  dif> 
pofition  fo  unfavourable  to  improvement,  we  fliall 
go  on  from  one  degree  of  indifference  to  another, 
till  every  fentiment  of  piety  fhall  be  extinguifhed. 
It  is  conceivable,  that  there  may  be  lefs  devotion, 
lefs  purity,  Icfs  fobriety  and  rectitude,  lefs  principle, 
among  thofe  who  enjoy  the  light  of  revelation,  than 
there  appear  to  be  at  the  prefent  age.  And  it  may 
be  juftly  apprehended,  that  fuch  a  declenlion  will 
take  place,  unlefs  we  ftrengthen  the  things  which  re- 
main, and  are  ready  to  die.  By  occafionally  neg- 
leding  any  duty,  we  foon  become  infenfible  to  its 
obligation.  Omitting  the  public  and  private  offices, 
we  finally  lofe  the  principle  of  devotion.  Neglecting 
to  confult  the  oracles  of  God,  we  lofe  the  religious 
knowledge  which  we  had  treafured  up.  And  allow- 
ing ourfelves  to  be  remifs  in  particular  inftances,  we 
fliall,  before  we  are  aware,  be  of  the  number  of  thofe, 
who  are  without  God  in  this  world,  and  without 
X  any 


170  ON    IMPROVING  pERM.  XIV. 

any  hopes  beyond  it.  Thus,  according  to  the  righ- 
teous appointment  of  God,  and  according  to  the  ef- 
tablilhed  conftitution  of  things,  do  they,  who  have 
not  a  ferious  delire  to  improve,  lofe  the  good  princi- 
ples, which  had  been  inllilled  into  their  minds,  and 
the  good  habits,  which  had  been  formed  in  their 
hearts. 

Secure  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  gofpel,  fome 
may,  perhaps,  confider  this  reprefentation  as  the 
work  of  a  gloomy  imagination  :  and  the  inquiry 
may  be  urged,  who  wi^l  deprive  us  of  the  informa- 
tion, reproof,  and  corre6lion,  which  we  find  in  the 
facrcd  pages  ?  That  the  infpired  volume  will  be  with- 
drawn, and  Chriftianity  itfelf  aboliftied,  there  is  no 
reafon  to  apprehend.  But  to  what  purpofe  have  we 
the  means  of  religion,  if  indifpofed  to  avail  ourfelves 
of  them  ?  What  is  Chriftianity  to  us,  if  we  negle(^ 
its  ordinances,  and  difobey  its  commands  ?  There  is 
virtually  an  end  to  the  fyftem  itfelf,  when  there  is  an 
end  to  its  divine  influence.  The  words  before  us 
are,  therefore,  awfully  verified,  when  we  lofe  the 
power,  though  we  retain  the  records  of  religion. 

From  the  fubject  of  this  difcourfe,  we  are  led  to 
inquire,  whether,  as  Chriftians,  we  have  gained  or 
loft.  It  has  been  our  privilege  to  enjoy  the  light  of 
revelation,  and  to  be  inftrucled  in  its  principles  and 
duties.  The  character  and  government  of  God  have 
been  often  fet  before  us  ;  we  have  learned  his  will  ; 
and  have  known  thofe  motives  to  obedience,  which 
are  drawn  from  a  future  ftate.  The  things  pertain- 
ing to  life  and  godlinefs,  have  been  familiar  to  our 
minds,  ever  iince  they  were  capable  of  reflection.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  pertinent  inquiry,  whether,  under  the 
favourable  circumftances,  in  which  God  has  placed 
us,  we  have  made  anfwerable  improvements  ?    Havd 

wc 


SeRM.  XIVJ  RELIGIOUS    ADVANTAGES.  I7I 

we  the  fatisfaclion  to  perceive,  that  we  have  advanced 
in  religion,  both  as  to  fpeculation  and  pradice  ?  Or, 
have  we  the  mortification  to  find,  that  the  moft  ra- 
tional inftruclions,  the  moft  powerful  and  convincing 
arguments,  the  moft  earneft  exhortations,  have  been 
addreffed  to  us  in  vain  ? 

As  we  value  our  privileges,  our  intereft,  and  our 
happinefs ;  as  we  would  ftand  approved  to  our  own 
confciences,  and  to  him  who  is  greater  than  our 
hearts,  and  who  knoweth  all  things  ;  as  we  would 
have  peace  in  the  hour  of  death,  and  leave  this 
world  with  the  profpeft  of  a  better,  let  us  endeavour 
to  abound  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Let  it  be  our 
great  objed,  not  merely  to  retain  a  principle  of  de- 
votion, but  to  increafe  in  true  piety.  Let  it  be  our 
ferious  concern,  to  make  the  higheft  poflible  attain- 
ments in  righteoufnefs,  fobriety,  and  benevolence. 
Comparing  ourfelves  with  others,  we  may,  perhaps, 
imagine  that  we  have  made  confiderable  progrefs  in 
the  divine  life.  But  comparing  the  ftate  of  our 
minds,  and  our  general  behaviour,  with  the  rules 
and  example  of  Chrift,  we  fliall  be  fenfible  of  many 
defects.  We  fliall  difcover  fufficient  reafon  to  be 
diflatisfied  with  ourfelves  ;  and  fufficient  motives  to 
•diligence  and  perfeverance  in  the  chriftian  courfe. 

Be  perfuaded,  therefore,  to  converfe  freely  with 
the  gofpel ;  and,  fenfible  of  your  fuperior  advantages, 
do  not  fail  to  avail  yourfelves  of  them.  For  your 
encouragement,  remember  the  folemn  promife  in 
tlie  text.  You  are  alTured  by  one,  whofe  veracity 
you  cannot  queftion,  that  if  you  have,  and  are  defir- 
ous  of  more  abundance,  it  will  be  freely  given. 
Let  this  promife  excite  you  to  be  fervent  in  fpirit, 
ferving  the  Lord.  So  will  you  advance  in  religion, 
as  you  advance  in  life.  So  will  your  charader  de- 
rive 


172  THE    NECESSITY   OF  [SerM.  XV, 

rive  new  fplendor  from  the  virtues  which  are  in  you, 
and  abound.  And  fo  will  you  infure  the  final  ap- 
probation of  Chrift,  being  changed  into  his  image, 
and  proceeding  from  glory  to  glory. 


)ermott  xv. 


On  the  Neceffity  of  perfonal  Holinefs. 

Hebrews   xii.   14. 
^'  holiness,    without   which   no   man   can   see 

THE    LORD." 

AMONG  the  various  points,  on  which  Chrif- 
tians  are  divided,  no  one  has  been  the  fubject 
of  greater  controverfy,  than  the  condition  of  our 
acceptance  with  God,  and  the  enjoyment  of  life  and 
bleffednefs  in  the  heavenly  kingdom.  According  to 
fome,  nothing  more  is  necelTary,  in  order  to  falvation, 
than  a  bare  aflent  to  this  plain  truth,  that  Jefus  is  the 
Chrift.  Others  tell  us,  that  his  death  is  the  great 
object  of  a  Chriftian*s  faith  ;  and  that,  to  fee  God 
hereafter,  he  muft  believe  that  Chrift  died  for  him  in 
particular.  Others  maintain,  that  faith  muft  be  pro- 
du6live  of  good  works,  in  order  to  render  us  meet 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  faints  in  light.  There  are 
others  again,  who  aflert,  that  we  are  faved  already 
by  the  rich  grace  of  God  ;  that  Chrift  has  believed 
for  us,  obeyed  for  us,  repented  for  us,  died  for  us, 
buffered  the  puniftiment  of  fin  in  our  behalf;  and 
that,  in  virtue  of  a  certain  inconceivable  union  with 

him. 


Serm.  XVJ         personal  holiness.  173 

him,  we  fhall  all  be  happy  at  the  day  of  judgment. 
Such,  indeed,  as  lived  and  died  in  a  ftate  of  rebel- 
lion againft  God,  will  be  greatly  alarmed  at  the  ap- 
pearance of  their  judge.  They  will  call  on  the  rocks 
to  fall  on  them,  and  the  mountains  to  cover  them. 
But,  we  are  alTured,  their  fears  v/ill  be  groundlefs  ; 
for  that  their  judge  will  pronounce  them  as  good  and 
faithful  fervants,  as  thofe  who  thought  themfelves 
under  obligation  to  fear  him,  and  keep  his  command- 
ments, and  that  they  will  be  as  readily  admitted  to 
the  joy  of  their  Lord.  Thus  varioufly  have  Chrif- 
tians  difcourfed  upon  the  fubjecl  of  future  bleffed- 
nefs,  and  the  condition  upon  which  that  blejDTednefs 
would  be  hereafter  obtained  and  enjoyed. 

But,  it  appears  to  me,  all  this  diverfity  of  fenti- 
ment  has  rifen  from  the  want  of  due  attention  to 
one  point,  namely,  that  a  moral,  intelligent  being 
muft  be  qualified  for  happinefs  before  he  can  be 
happy.  God  may  be  unfpeakably  and  eternally  good. 
The  fufFerings  and  death  of  Chrift  may  be  entitled 
to  all  that  importance,  in  the  great  expedient  for 
our  falvation,  which  is  generally  afcribed  to  them. 
And  the  circumftances  of  mankind  may  (as  they 
have  been  often  reprefented)  plead  for  mercy  with 
groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered.  Still,  however, 
as  men  are  free  agents,  fomething  is  neceffary  on 
their  part,  in  order  to  their  being  capable  of  that 
happinefs,  which  is  fuited  to  their  nature,  as  free 
and  intelligent  beings.  If  you  afic,  what  that  prc- 
requifite  is,  I  anfwer,  perfonal  holinefs.  For  we  read 
in  the  text,  (and  the  fentiment  frequently  occurs  in 
other  parts  of  fcripture)  that  "  without  holinefs  no 
man  can  fee  the  Lord." 

Upon  this  point  I  fliall  iniift  in  the  following  dif- 
courfe  J  and  fliall,  before  I  conclude,  take  notice  of 

the 


174  THS    NECESSITY   OF  [SeRM.  XV. 

the  feveral   confequences,   which  may  "be  deduced 
from  this  doci:rine. 

The  principle,  advanced  in  the  text,  is  the  abfolute 
neceffity  of  holy  and  virtuous  habits,  in  order  to  a 
capacity  for  feeing  and  enjoying  God,  and  being  im- 
mortally happy  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  It  is 
generally  fuppofed,  that  God  has  ena6led  certain 
laws,  as  a  teft  of  our  obedience  :  that  thefe  laws  are 
enforced  by  proper  fandions  :  and  that  future  hap- 
pinefs  and  mifery  are  the  politive  appointment  of 
God,  the  one  being  a  reward  annexed  to  obedience, 
the  other  a  punifbment  inflicted  on  difobedience. 
Such  are  the  ideas  generally  formed  refpefting  this 
fubjecT:  :  nor  can  it  be  thought  ftrange,  when  the 
phrafeology  of  the  fcripture,  the  language  of  civil 
government,  and  that  parental  authority,  which  we 
experience  in  early  lif&,  unitedly  confirm  thefe  con- 
ceptions of  the  divine  adminiftrations.  But,  if  we 
ferioufly  examine  the  fubjeft,  we  ftiall  find,  that  the 
iaws  of  God  are  not  mere  tefts  of  our  obedience  ; 
jior  the  happinefs  of  heaven  a  merely  pofitive  ap- 
pointment. The  divine  laws,  efpecially  thofe  of  the 
chriftian  difpenfation,  are  chiefly  declarations  of  the 
natural  and  neceflTary  eifed:s  of  certain  actions  ;  and 
thefe  neceffary  effects  are  the  real  fanction  of  thofe 
laws.  According  to  the  efiiablifbed  conftitution  of 
nature,  fome  things  will  do  us  good,  and  fome  will 
injure  us.  It  is  found,  by  experience,  that  temper- 
ance in  our  animal  gratifications  will  produce  very 
defirable  eflefts,  both  in  regard  to  our  body,  mind, 
and  outward  eftate.  By  the  fame  experience,  it  is 
alfo  found,  that  exorbitant  defires,  if  freely  gratified, 
will  be  followed  by  mifery  and  ruin.  And  why  may 
there  not  be  the  fame  connexion  between  the  habits 
formed  here,   and  our  condition  hereafter  ?    Why 

may 


SeRM.  XV.]  PERSONAL    HOLINESS,  tf^ 

may  not  heaven  be  the  neceffary  coilfequence  of 
holinefs  and  evangelical  obedience  ?  And  why  may 
not  the  mifery  denounced  in  the  gofpel  be  the  natural 
fruit  of  a  difordered  ftatc  of  mind,  of  evil  affections, 
irregular  and  perverfe  habits  ?  Is  it  not  reafonable  to 
fuppofe  that  our  future  condition  will  be  good  or  bad, 
according  to  certain  fixed  laws  of  nature  ?  The  poet 
has  faid,  and  I  firmly  believe  the  fentimenf^ 

"  The  mind  is  in  its  own  place,  and  in  itfelf, 
"  Can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven*" 

It  is  beyond  all  difpute  clear  in  my  mind,  that 
heaven  is  the  natural  effedl  of  a  religious  life.  The 
joys  and  raptures,  which  are  to  rife  up  in  the  foul, 
and  prevail  through  eternal  ages,  mufl  be  the  divine 
fruit  of  confirmed  good  habits.  Thefe  are  the  heav- 
enly feed,  from  whence  will  grow  up  pleafures  with- 
out allay,  and  blifs  that  will  never  end.  We  are  at 
prefent  like  plants  in  a  nurfery  ;  and  when  fit  for 
it,  we  Ihall  be  tranfplanted  to  the  paradife  of  God. 
But  we  mufl:  grow,  our  flate  muft  be  firm  and 
healthy,  before  fuch  a  diftinguifhed  honour  will  be 
conferred  upon  us. 

But  as  our  future  heaven,  fo  will  our  expelled 
hell  be  of  our  own  making.  Vice  and  mifery  are 
as  clofely  connected  as  virtue  and  happinefs.  Cer- 
tain pradices  will  neceffarily  produce  thofe  tremen- 
dous evils,  which  are  reprefented  as  the  future  por- 
tion of  the  wicked.  As  obvioufly  as  bodily  pains 
are  the  confequences  of  intemperance,  poverty  of 
diffipation,  or  death  of  a  dofe  of  poifon,  fo  obvioufly 
and  naturally  will  future  tribulation  and  anguifh  be 
the  refult  of  an  ill-fpent  life.  Vice  is  the  feed  of 
mifery.  And  in  proportion  as  it  prevails  in  the 
foul,  will  be  its  dreadful  fruits  hereafter.     Hence  we 

may 


lyG  THE    NECESSITY    OF  [SeRM.  XV. 

may  be  faid,  in  every  wicked  adiorij  to  be  fowing 
one  feed  of  future  wretchednefs.  And  if  thofe 
aclions  multiply,  what  can  we  expect,  but  fuch  a 
feries  of  calamities  as  no  human  tongue  can  defcribe. 

Were  heaven  a  place,  rather  than  a  particular  ftate 
of  mind,  it  would  ftiii  follow,  that  a  wicked  man 
mull  be  miferable.  What  fatisfaftion  could  a  fpirit- 
ual  enjoyment  afford  to  a  fenfual  mind  ?  "  What," 
fays  an  ingenious  writer,  "  what  delight  would  it  be 
"  to  the  fwine  to  be  wrapt  in  line  linen,  and  laid  in 
*'  odours  ?  His  fenfes  are  not  gratified  by  any  fuch 
"  delicacies,  nor  would  he  feel  any  thing  befide  the 
"  torment  of  being  with-held  from  the  mire.  And 
"  as  little  complacency  would  a  brutifli  foul  find  in 
"  thofe  purer  and  refined  pleafures,  which  can  only 
''  upbraid,  not  fatisfy  him.  So  that  could  we,  by 
"  an  impoflible  fuppofition,  fancy  fuch  an  one  alTum- 
*'  ed  to  thofe  fruitions,  his  pleafure  furely  would  be 
*'  as  little  as  his  preparation  for  it  was.  Thofe  eyes, 
"  which  have  continually  beheld  vanity,  would  be 
"  dazzled,  not  delighted  with  the  beatific  vifion  ; 
*'  neither  could  that  tongue,  which  had  accuftomed 
"  itfelf  only  to  oaths  and  blafphemies,  find  harmony 
"  or  mufic  in  hallelujahs.  It  is  the  peculiar  privilege 
"  of  the  pure  in  heart  that  they  fhali  fee  God.  And 
"  if  any  others  could  fo  invade  this  their  inclofure, 
"  as  to  take  heaven  by  violence,  it  furely  would  be 
''  a  joylefs  polTellion  to  thefe  men,  and  only  place 
"  them  in  a  condition  to  which  they  have  the  great- 
"  eft  averfion.  So  that  holinefs  is  neceffary,  not  only 
"  to  put  us  in  poffeflion,  but  alfo  to  render  us  capa- 
"  ble  of  future  blifs." 

Admitting  the  truth  of  thefe  obfervations,  (and 
I  fee  not  how  it  can  be  called  in  queftion)  the  doc- 
trine in  the   text  will  be  inconteftably  eftabliflied. 

"  Without 


SeRM.  XV. j  PERSONAL    HOLINESS.  1 77 

''Without  holinefs,  no  man  can  fee  the  Lord.** 
That  is,  unlefs  a  man  be  capable  of  enjoying  the  de- 
lights of  heaven,  he  muft  not  exped  an  admiilion  to 
that  ftate  of  blelfednefs.  If  his  nature  be  depraved 
and  degraded,  he  muft  anticipate  the  natural  confe- 
quence  of  moral  diforder.  There  can  be  no  heaven 
to  a  being,  who  has  unfitted  himfelf  for  thofe  imma- 
terial felicities,  which  conftitute  the  reward  of  vir- 
tue. But  if  we  have  wifely  improved  our  moral 
powers  ;  if,  under  the  influence  of  the  gofpel,  we 
have  become  good  Chriftians,  heaven,  with  all  its 
joys,  will  grow  out  of  our  obedience.  We  muft  be 
happy  in  the  fame  degree  in  which  we  are  holy. 
And  if  our  path  ihine  brighter  and  brighter,  our 
bleffednefs  will  be  improving  through  all  eternity. 

Having  thus  confidered  the  doctrine  in  the  text, 
I  Ihall  endeavour  to  Ihow,  firft,  what  does  not,  then, 
what  does  follow  by  natural  confequence.  And,  in 
regard  to  the  former,  you  will  take  particular  notice, 
that  the  eftablifhed  connexion  between  holinefs  and 
happinefs  does  not  militate  with  the  great  evangelical 
dodrine  of  falvation  by  grace.  Some  may  be  ready 
to  fay,  if  habits  of  virtue  muft  be  formed  before  we 
can  fee  the  Lord,  and  if  our  future  blifs  will  be  the 
natural  fruit  of  our  prefent  obedience,  does  not  this 
render  our  falvation  the  reward  of  our  good  works  ? 
Upon  this  fuppolition,  do  we  not  purchafe  heaven  ? 
Is  not  the  reward  of  debt,  and  the  death  of  Chrift  a 
vain  thing  ?  I  anfwer,  no.  God  forbid  that  fuch  a 
conclufion  fliould  be  drawn  from  any  thing  advanced 
upon  the  nature  of  chriftian  holinefs,  and  its  connex- 
ion with  our  falvation.  The  truth  is,  our  exiftence, 
our  rational  and  moral  powers,  our  capacity  for  re- 
ligion, the  means  which  God  has  afforded  to  aid  us 
in  becoming  religious-  a  refurreclion  from  the  grave, 
■  Y  an4 


178  THE    NECESSITY   OF  [SeRM.  XV. 

and  the  provifion  made  for  our  eternal  welfare,  arc 
all  to  be  afcribed  to  the  rich,  unmerited  grace  oi 
God.  The  author  of  our  being  v\^as  under  no  obli- 
gation to  make  us.  He  was  under  no  obligation  to 
render  us  fuperior  to  the  beafls  of  the  field,  or  the 
fowls  of  heaven.  When  formed  with  a  capacity  for 
a  religion,  God  was  not  obliged  in  juftice  to  fend  his 
fon  to  inftrucl  us,  to  die  for  us,  and  much  lefs,  to 
bring  life  and  immortality  to  light.  No  perfection 
in  the  divine  nature  demanded  of  God  our  continu- 
ance beyond  this  life.  Had  God,  for  the  firfl;  lin,  cut 
us  off ;  had  he  left  all  mankind  to  perifii  forever  in 
the  grave,  he  had  done  them  no  wrong.  Even  after 
a  life  of  the  moft  exemplary  obedience,  independent 
of  the  divine  promife,  we  have  no  juft  claim  of  any 
reward.  Is  it  not,  therefore,  of  grace,,  that,  upon 
any  condition,  we  may  hope  to  fee  God  ?  Is  it  not 
of  grace,  that  a  faviour  was  provided  to  inilrucb  us, 
and  die  for  us  ?  Is  not  our  refurreftion  the  elTeft  of 
grace  ?  And  m^y  we  not  afcribe  it  wholly  to  the 
rich  grace  and  overflowing  bounty  of  God,  that  the 
confequences  of  holinefs  are  extended  beyond  this 
ftate  ;.  and  that  the  habits,  here  acquired,  may  be  ta 
us  a  fource  of  joy,  unfpeakable  and  full  of  glory  1 
Surely,  grace  appears  in  every  ftep  :  and  it  will  re- 
main an  eternal  truth,  that  by  grace  are  we  faved 
through  Chrift,  notwithflanding  purity  of  heart,  and 
holinefs  of  life,  may  be  a  pre-requifite  to  our  feeing 
God.  You  will  not,  therefore,  from  any  thing  faid,. 
undervalue  the  grace  of  God,  or  fuppofe  the  everlall- 
ingjoys  of  heaven  no  more  than  an  adequate  reward 
of  your  obedience.  For  it  is  very  conceivable,  that 
holinefs  fliould  qualify  us  for  heaven,  without  being 
the  meritorious  ground  of  our  falvation. 

Having  fliown  what  does  ?iot,  I  fhall  now  endeav- 
our 


SeRM.  XV. 3  PERSONAX-    HOLINESS.  ly^ 

our  to  fhow  what  does  follow,  by  neceflliry  confe- 
quence,  from  the  point  I  have  undertaken  to  eflab- 
Hfh.  And,  firft,  if  ivthout  hoUnefs  no  man  can' fee  the 
Lord,  It  is  evident,  that  faith,  unattended  with 
works,  will  not  juftify  us  at  a  future  day,  A  "cold 
affent  to  the  gofpel  can  be  of  no  poffible  advantage-. 
The  devils  believe,  yet  we  do  not  find  that  it  miti- 
gates their  fufferings  :  nor  will  it  foften  our  future' 
doom,  unlefs  our  faith  work  by  love,  purify  the 
heart,  and  produce  habits  of  evangelical  goodnefs. 
The  reafon  why  we  are  commanded  to  believe,  is,- 
that  we  may  have  within  us  a  conftant  fpring  of  vir- 
tuous action.  Good  works  are  the  proper  fruit  of  a 
cordial  affent  to  the  gofpel.  Thefe  works,  often  re- 
peated, terminate  in  habits  of  holinefs  j  and  holinefs, 
we  have  already  feen,  qualifies  us  for  the  kingdom 
and  joys  of  heaven.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  a 
dead,  inoperative  faith,  will  lay  no  foundation  for 
the  life  and  happinefs  to  come.  Though  every  arti- 
cle of  Chriftianity  be  admitted  as  an  undeniable 
truth,  yet  this  will  profit  us  nothing,  unlefs  by 
works  our  faith  be  made  perfect. 

Secondly— We  learn  from  the  fubje<5l:,  to  which 
we  have  been  attending,  not  only  the  inefficacy  of  a 
dead  faith,  but  alfo  the  infufiiciency  of  repentance, 
confidered  as  a  fi^mple  act.  Many  perfons,  who  now 
live  in  fin,  expert  to  repent  before  they  die.  They 
flatter  themfelves,  that  they  Ihall  have  fo  much  warn- 
ing of  their  approaching  diffolution,  as  to  have  time 
to  afk  forgivenefs,  and  to  exprefs  their  extreme  for- 
row  for  what  they  have  done.  Upon  this  prefump- 
tion,  they  go  on,  adding  iniquity  to  tranfgrefllon  : 
and  though  their  whole  lives  be  a  courfe  of  oppofi- 
tion  to  the  law  and  authority  of  God,  yet  they  dread 
no  condemnation,  provided  they  be  not  denied  the 
privilege  of  a  death-bed  repentance.  But 


|5o  THE    NECESSITY  OF  [SeRM.  XV, 

But  if  without  holinefs  no  man  can  fee  the  Lord,  thefe 
perfons  will  find  themfetves  miferably  deluded.  Re- 
pentance is  of  confe(^uence  no  farther  than  as  it  pro- 
duces reformation,  "  The  wicked  man,  when  he 
turns  from  the  wickednefs  which  he  hath  committed, 
and  doth  that  which  is  lawful  and  right,  will  fave  his 
foul  alive."  But  no  fuch  confequence  will  follow, 
unlefs  there  be  fruits  meet  for  repentance.  It  is  the 
moral  effccl  of  godly  forrow  upon  our  temper  and 
actions,  that  renders  it  a  fubjed  of  evangelical  exhor- 
tation. If  repentance  be  produdive  of  newnefs  of 
life,  and  new  obedience,  then  it  will  ijifurc  the  divinp 
forgivenefs  :  but  if  we  live  without  God,  and  walk 
according  to  Xho.  courfe  of  this  world,  till  upon  the 
verge  of  eternity,  we  may  rely,  that  God  will  not  be 
appeafed  by  a  mere  profelllon  of  forrow.  At  fuch 
an  awful  moment,  forrow  is  an  act  of  neceffity  :  it 
cannot,  therefore,  either  entitle  us  to  happinefs,  or 
qualify  us  for  it, 

THiRDLY--T:From  the  doctrine  in  the  text,  we 
learn  alfo  the  infufficiency  of  prayer,  the  ftudy  of 
God's  holy  word,  an  attendance  on  the  communion, 
and  all  other  religious  obfervances,  when  ultimately 
relied  on,  as  complete  difcharge  of  our  duty.  There 
are  perfons  in  the  world,  who,  if  they  have  obferved 
the  ftated  tinges  of  prayer,  think  they  have  done  all 
required  of  them.  T'he  mere  labour  of  the  lips; 
comprehends  their  whole  fyftem  of  religious  duty. 
Others  read  a  portion  of  fcripture  morning  and 
evening,  and  there  ends  their  religion.  Others  go 
to  the  communion  ;  but  they  confider  it  as  a  charm  j 
or,  to  fay  the  leaft,  its  moral  effeds  upon  the  heart 
and  life  never  enter  their  thoughts  at  the  time  of  its 
celebration.  They  think  they  have  done  ail  required 
of  them,  if  they  have  received  the  elements  after  the 

(Qiiftomary 


I 


SeRM.  XV.l  PERSONAL    H0LINESS<?|*'  Ijgj^H 

cuftomary  manner.  If  we  go  out  of  our  own 
church,  we  ihall  find  inftances  of  far  greater  extrav- 
agance. 3onie,  in  order  to  fee  God,  renounce  all 
commerce  with  the  world,  and  retire  to  a  religious 
hoiife,  where  they  may  devote  themfelves  wholly  to 
tfee  ioffices  of  piety.  Others  wander  in  deferts,  re^ 
fufmg.  all  habitation  but  a  cave,  all  affociates  but  the 
beafts  of  the  earth.  Others  afflict  their  bodies  for 
the  good  of  the  fopl.  Others  undertake  a  difiant 
and  dangerous  pilgrimage,  prefuming  that  a  vifit  to 
the  tomb  of  Chrift  will  expiate  a  hfe  of  iniquity. 
Others,  again,  devote  their  fubflance  to  the  church, 
and  pay  particular  homage  to  the  priefthood  ;  in 
thefe  acls  confifts  their  religion,  and  they  confidently 
expect  its  eternal  rewards.  It  would  be  endlefs  to 
recount  the  various  acts,  upon  which  men  rely,  as 
the  great  work  to  be  done  by  them,  and  the  fole 
condition  of  falvation. 

But  the  truth  is,  no  one  outward  performance 
will  fit  us  for  heaven,  unlefs  it  purifies  the  heart, 
improves  the  temper,  and  reforms  the  pradice. 
Prayer,  for  inftance,  in  order  to  anfwer  the  great 
end  of  its  inflitution,  mufl  not  be  a  mere  labour  of 
the  lips ;  but  muft  produce  in  us,  all  holy  defires  and 
afFeftions,  and  muft  be  followed  with  the  intire  con- 
fecration  of  our  whole  fpirit,  foul,  and  body,  to  the 
fervice  of  God.  We  muft  ftudy  the  fcriptures,  with 
a  view  to  become  wifer  and  better.  We  muft  attend 
the  communion,  with  a  pious  concern  to  honour 
Chrift,  and  to  be  quickened  in  our  duty  to  him. 
In  fhort,  we  muft  confider  our  duty  performed,  not 
when  we  rife  from  prayer,  nor  when  v/e  clofe  our 
bible  ;  not  when  we  retire  from  the  Lord's  table  ; 
not  when  we  leave  the  church  ;  but  when  thefe 
pieanp  of  grace  have  made  us  partakers  of  the  divine 

holinefs. 


l82  THB    NECESSITY,   ^c.  |^ERM.  XV. 

holinefs.  For,  after  all,  in  whatever  other  qualities 
we  may  excel,  whatever  other  attainments  we  may 
make,  without  holinefs  no  man  can  fee  the  Lord. 

Let  us  then,  firft  of  all,  labour  for  thofe  righ- 
teous and  godly  habits,  which  are  fo  indifpenfably 
neceffary  to  fit  us  for  heaven.  Let  us  not  dream  of 
immortal  happinefs,  till  we  are  capable  of  enjoying 
it.  Let  us  not  fay,  the  clofe  of  life  will  fuffice  for 
the  concerns  of  religion  and  futurity  ;  for,  be  alTur- 
ed,  the  longeft  life  is  not  too  long  for  the  acquilition 
of  thofe  virtues  and  graces,  which  are  the  feed  of 
heavenly  blifs.  Favoured  with  the  means  of  grace, 
let  us  thankfully  and  diligently  improve  them.  Let 
us  be  inftant  in  prayer,  attentive  to  the  infpired 
oracles  ;  let  us  wait  upon  God  in  his  houfe,  and 
appear  as  guefts  at  his  table  j  and  let  us  do  all  with  a 
view  to  our  improvement  in  grace  and  holinefs. 
Finally — Having  done  our  beft,  let  us  rely  upon  the 
grace  of  God,  through  Chrift,  for  our  eternal  falva- 
tion.  Let  us  remember,  that  we  cannot  claim  the 
joys  of  heaven  as  our  deferved  reward.  We  are 
unprofitable  fervants.  But  God  is  all  love.  Out  of 
mercy  he  fent  his  fon  into  the  world.  And  from 
him  we  learn,  that  "  bleffed  are  the  pure  in  heart  j 
for  they  fliall  fee  God." 


•fSS^^i^^^^^ 


sermon 


SeRM.  XVI.]  ON    PUBLIC    WORSHIIS  183 

g)ermon  xvl 

On  public  Worftiip. 
Psalm  lxxxiv.  part  of  4  and  10  vs. 

^^  BLESSED    ARE    THEY    THAT    DWELJ.    IN    THY  HOUSE. 

A  DAY    IN    THY   COURTS    IS    BETTER    THAN    A 

THOUSAND." 

HAPPY  would  it  be  for  the  caufe  and  interefts 
of  religion,  if  its  profeffors  were  more  general- 
ly warmed  with  that  pure  devotion,  which  infpired 
the  author  of  this  pfalm.  David  could  fay,  "  I  have 
loved  the  habitation  of  thy  houfe,  the  place  where 
thine  honour  dwelleth."  He  could  declare,  with  the 
utmoft  iincerity,  that  fome  of  his  happieft  moments 
were  thofe,  which  had  been  employed  in  the  worfliip 
of  God.  He  could  lay  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and 
fay,  that  "  he  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper  in  the 
houfe  of  his  God,  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of 
wickednefs." 

How  unlike  his,  are  the  fentimcnts  of  many  at 
this  prefent  day  ?  So  far  from  taking  a  pleafure  in 
the  public  oiEces  of  religion,  it  is  manifeft,  they  ef- 
teem  them  an  infupportable  burden.  So  far  from 
ioving  the  habitation  of  God's  houfe,  it  is  the  place 
of  their  averfion.  This  I  infer  from  their  abfenting 
themfelves  from  this  place  of  worfhip,  whenever  the 
feafon  of  the  year,  the  ftate  of  the  weather,  or  their 
own  ftate  of  health,  will  furnifh  even  the  fhadow  of 
an  excufe.  Did  they  experience  the  facred  fefvour 
of  genuine  devotion,  it  is  impoflible  that  they  fhould 

fo 


184  osf-  PUBLIC  woRSfMi*.  [Serm  XVL 

fo  Mdom  attend  its  public  offices.  A  cold,  a  hot,  or 
a  lowering  day,  would  not  confine  them  to  their 
houfes,  if  their  hearts  were  properly  difpofed  towards 
God  and  religion. 

As  to  thofe,  who  labour  under  the  weight  of  years, 
they  have  a  fuiHcient  excufe  for  occafional  abfence. 
The  really  infirm  may  Hkewife  excufe  it  to  their 
confciences,  if  they  do  not  make  their  appearance  in 
public  every  Lord's-day.  And  a  fufficient  plea  may 
be  formed  for  thofe,  who  have  the  charge  of  young 
children.  Perfons  of  the  above  defcription  cannot, 
with  any  convenience,  repair  to  the  houfe  of  God,  as 
often  as  its  doors  are  fet  open. 

But  what  fhall  be  faid  of  thofe,  who  have  neither 
age,  ficknefs,  nor  domeftic  cares,  to  prevent  their  at- 
tendance on  public  worfhip  ?  What  excufe  can  they 
make  to  fociety,  for  violating  one  of  its  moft  ufeful 
regulations  ?  What  excufe  can  they  make  to  their 
fellow-chriftians,  for  flighting  their  fociety  ?  What 
excufe  can  they  make  to  their  children  and  fervants, 
for  conducing  in  a  manner  fo  contrary  to  the  line 
of  behaviour  marked  out  for  them  ?  And  what  ex- 
cufe can  they  make  to  that  God,  who  hath  claimed 
both  the  private  and  public  homage  of  his  creatures  ? 
I  now  addrefs  myfelf,  not  to  the  ignorant  and 
thoughtlefs,  but  to  perfons  of  underflanding  and 
reflection.  And  I  afk,  in  the  fpirit  of  chriftian  meek- 
nefs  and  love,  how  they  can  reconcile  their  condud: 
with  a  fenfe  of  duty ;  and  by  what  means  they  will 
repair  the  mifchiefs  produced  by  their  example  ? 

No  habit  is  fooner  formed,  than  that  againfl:  which 
I  am  now  endeavouring  to  awaken  your  zeal.  A 
very  few  unneceflary  abfences  from  the  houfe  of 
God,  will  be  fuflicient  to  eftrange  a  man  from  that 
facred  place.     Every  time  he  fl;ays  at  home,  the  more 

averfe 


SeRM.  XVIJ  ON   PUBLIC  WORSHIP,  '185 

averfe  he  will  be  to  appear  abroad.  Many,  who 
have  fallen  into  this  habit,  have  affured  me,  that  it 
ftole  upon  them  infenfibly.  Before  they  were  aware, 
a  fettled  indifpofition  to  public  worfhip  had  grown 
up  in  their  hearts  :  and,  at  length,  they  have  want- 
ed refolution  to  encounter  the  eyes  of  a  chriftian 
aifembly,  which,  they  juftly  fuppofed,  would  be 
turned  upon  them.  Thus  have  many  defcribed  the 
formation  and  progrefs  of  this  habit ;  and  have  fin- 
cerely  lamented  their  folly,  in  not  oppoling  it  in  its 
firft  ftages. 

As  the  feafon  is  now  approaching,  in  which  too 
many  indulge  themfelves  in  a  negle(5t  of  fecial 
worfliip,  I  thought  it  would  not  be  amifs  to  addrefs 
you  on  the  fubject.  The  words  of  the  text  will 
furnifh  fome  ufeful  reflexions  ;  and  I  promife  my- 
felf,  that  you  will  hear  me  with  candor  and  atten- 
tion, if  I  exprefs  myfelf  with  that  plainnefs,  which  a 
fenfe  of  duty  requires. 

The  pfalm,  from  which  I  have  taken  the  text,  is 
generally  afcribed  to  David  ;  and  from  the  tenor  of 
it,  it  is  concluded,  that  he  compofed  it  when  in  a 
ftate  of  exile  from  the  fand:uary,  either  on  account 
of  the  enmity  of  Saul,  or  the  rebellion  of  Abfalom. 
It  begins,  "  how  amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord 
of  hofts  !  My  foul  longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth  for 
the  courts  of  the  Lord.  My  heart,  and  my  fleJtti,  cry 
out  for  the  living  God.  Yea,  the  fparrow  hath 
found  an  houfe,  and  the  fwallow  a  nell  for  herfelf, 
where  fhe  may  lay  her  young,  even  thine  altars,  O 
Lord  of  hofts,  my  king,  and  my  God."  Beautiful 
ftrains  !  and  divinely  exprellive  of  a  devout  mind  ! 
He  goes  on,  "  Blejjfed  are  they  that  dwell  i?i  thy  houfe  : 
they  will  be  Jiill  praiftng  thee'*  It  is  afterwards  added, 
"  For  a  day  in  thy  courts  is  better  than  a  tboufand :  I  had 
Z  rather 


i86  ON  PUBLIC  WORSHIP*.        [Serm.  XVI. 

rather  be  a  door-keeper  in  the  houfe  of  my  God, 
than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickednefs.'*  Such 
are  the  parts  of  this  divine  compofition,  which  more 
immediately  refer  to  the  fubjed  of  public  worfliip. 
But  the  pfalm  is  beautiful  throughout  :  the  fenti- 
ments,  contained  in  it,  are  excellent :  and  in  the 
metaphors  employed  to  fet  off  thofe  fentiments, 
there  is  fomething  highly  engaging. 

But,  to  return  to  the  text,  Blejfed  are  they  that 
dwell  in  thy  houfe.  The  houfe  of  God  here  intends 
the  tabernacle,  which,  previous  to  the  building  of  the 
temple,  was  conhdered  as  the  fpecial  refidence  of  the 
moft  high.  And  by  dwelling  in  this  houfe,  we  are 
to  underftand,  the  privilege  of  going  to  it,  for  the 
purpofes  of  worlhip,  as  often  as  the  mind  was  feri- 
oully  difpofed.  Of  this  privilege,  David  was,  by 
fome  means,  deprived.  He  could  not  go  to  the  tab- 
ernacle, as  in  former  times  :  fome  political  fchifm 
had  made  it  unfafe  for  him  to  appear  in  a  place, 
where  he  had  often  poured  out  his  devotions,  and 
folicited  a  bleffing  from  God.  He,  therefore,  laments 
his  condition  :  he  refledis  on  the  ineftimable  privi- 
lege enjoyed  by  others  ;  and  he  feems  to  envy  the 
birds,  who  could  hover  round  the  altar,  and  take  up. 
their  abode  within  the  facred  inclofure. 

But  we  need  not  reftricl  the  words  to  the  taber- 
nacle of  Ifrael  ;  nor  confine  ourfelves  to  the  melan- 
choly fituation  of  David.  Any  houfe,  appropriated 
to  public  worfhip,  is  the  houfe  of  God.  This  is  his 
habitation.  Not  that  the  divine  effence  is  circum- 
fcribed  by  thefe  walls  :  for  the  omniprefent  Jehovah 
fills  heaven  and  earth  !  But,  as  the  ideas  of  time  and 
place  accompany  almoft  all  our  ideas,  fo  we  find  our- 
felves under  a  neceffity  of  fpeaking  of  God  as  exift- 
ing  in  time,  and  having  a  peculiar  abode.     The  houfe 

of 


Serm.  XVIJ        on  public  worship.  187 

of  God  is,  therefore,  a  term  which  we  may  innocently 
ufe  :  and  we  may  apply  it  to  all  places,  where  the 
public  worlliip  of  God  is  regularly  carried  on,  and 
his  ordinances  adminiftered. 

To  dwell  in  this  houft\  is  to  frequent  it  at  all  thofe 
feafons,  which  are  facred  to  devotion.  A  man  can- 
not be  faid  to  dwell  in  this  houfe,  unlefs  he  repairs  to 
it  every  Lord's-day,  and  at  fuch  other  times  as  are 
pointed  out  by  authority.  He  is  only  an  occafional 
vifitor,  if  he  makes  his  appearance  only  when  the 
weather  is  particularly  inviting,  or  when  he  is  tired 
of  his  own  home.  To  dwell  in  the  houfe  of  God,  is  to 
attend  public  worftiip  fteadily  and  conftantly.  It  is 
to  repair  to  the  facred  temple  on  both  parts  of  the 
Lord's-day.  It  is  to  obferve,  in  a  religious  manner, 
thofe  days  of  humiliation  and  thankfgiving,  which 
owe  their  appointment  to  civil  authority.  And  it  is 
to  attend  all  other  religious  folemnities,  when  our 
bufmefs  will  permit.  This  is  dwelling  in  the  houfe 
of  God,  in  the  chriftian  fenfe  of  the  words.  And 
fuch  as  honour  the  fupreme  being,  by  dwelling  in  his 
courts,  in  the  manner  above  explained,  may  expe<5fc 
a  divine  bleffing. 

In  the  firft  place,  their  fteady  attendance  on  pub- 
lic worfhip,  will  open  to  them  a  fource  of  pure  and 
rational  pleafure.  They  will  feel  particularly  happy, 
when  employed  in  the  offices  of  devotion  ;  and  the 
lelTons  of  inftruclion,  difpenfed  from  the  delk,  will 
afford  them  real  entertainment.  You  will  remember, 
I  am  now  fpeaking  of  thofe,  who  dwell  in  the  facred 
courts.  As  for  thofe,  who  feldom  frequent  them,  it 
is  reafonable  to  think,  that  they  fubmit  to  pubHc 
worfhip  as  a  burden,  rather  than  afTifl  at  it  from  any 
expectation  of  pleafure.  No  doubt,  it  is  a  wearinefs 
to  many  j  and  that  they  feel  relieved,  when  the  fer- 

vice 


i88  ON  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.        [Serm.  XVI, 

vice  is  over.  On  any  other  fuppolition,  how  fliall 
we  account  for  their  inattention  to  this  duty  ?  Would 
they  not  as  fteadily  vifit  the  houfe  of  God,  as  they 
vilit  places  of  fafliionable  entertainment,  if  they  could 
find  as  much  happinefs  in  religious  exercifes,  as  in 
polite  amufements  ? 

But  to  thofe,  who  have  habituated  themfelves  to 
the  public  fervices  of  religion,  thofe  fervices  afford 
an  exquifite  pleafure.  It  is  the  delight  of  their  fouls 
to  worfhip  God  in  a  focial  manner.  "  They  are 
glad,  when  it  is  faid  to  them,  let  us  go  to  the  houfe 
of  the  Lord."  And  they  can  fincerely  acquiefce  in 
thofe  words  of  the  pfalmift  :  "  BlelTed  is  the  man, 
whom  thou  choofeft,  and  caufeft  to  approach  unto 
thee,  that  he  may  dwell  in  thy  courts  :  he  ihall  be 
fatisfied  with  the  goodnefs  of  thy  houfe,  even  of  thy 
holy  temple."  They  can  fay  with  David,  "  one 
thing  have  I  defired  of  the  Lord,  and  that  will  I  feek 
after,  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  houfe  of  the  Lord,  all 
the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the 
Lord,  and  to  inquire  in  his  temple."  This  is  the 
language  of  pure  devotion  ;  and  they,  who  can  adopt 
thefe  ftrains,  will  acknowledge,  that  no  pleafures  can 
be  named  with  thofe,  which  they  have  tailed  in  the 
fanduary. 

Bad  as  the  age  is,  I  doubt  not  there  are  fome, 
who,  from  experience,  can  declare,  that  I  have  not 
unreafonably  magnified  the  pleafures  of  devotion.  I 
would  alk,  have  you  not  been  happier  in  the  houfe 
of  prayer,  than  in  the  houfe  of  feafting  ?  Within 
thefe  walls,  have  you  not  had  moments  of  higher  fat- 
isfaftion,  than  in  any  other  place  ?  And  comparing 
the  time  devoted  to  reHgion  and  pleafure,  can  you 
not  declare,  that  a  day  confccrated  to  the  worfliip 
of  your  maker,  is  now  remembered  as  a  more  valu- 
able 


SeRM.  XVIJ  ON    PUBLIC    WORSHIP.  1 89 

able  part  of  life,  than  a  thoufand  otherwife  employed. 
la  the  opinion  of  fome,  thefe  queflions  may  border 
on  extravagance  :  but  I  fhall  be  more  than  juftified 
by  the  experience  of  others. 

Secondly — BlefTed  are  they,  who  dwell  in  God*s 
houfe,  becaufe  they  find  not  merely  entertainment 
for  the  moment,  but  are  in  the  way  of  receiving 
lafting  improvement.  The  prayers  and  praifes,  which 
are  publicly  offered  to  the  Supreme,  have  a  tendency 
to  imprefs  the  mind  with  a  lively  fenfe  of  his  being, 
prefence,  providence,  and  authority,  and  thus  to 
keep  us  fteady  in  a  courfe  of  duty.  And,  from  the 
truths  difpenfed,  every  candid  mind  may  derive  ad- 
vantage. If  new  truths  cannot  adorn  and  recom- 
mend every  difcourfe,  yet  important  duties  may  be 
inculcated  :  and  if  thofe  duties  are  properly  explain- 
ed, and  warmly  enforced,  who  will  fay,  that  the  time 
is  loft,  which  is  fpent  in  hearing  moral  inftruclion. 

Whether  a  religious  difcourfe  fliall  be  more  or 
lefs  profitable,  muft,  in  fome  meafure,  depend  upon 
the  preacher.  If  unlkilful  in  the  choice  of  his  fub- 
jeds,  obfcure  in  his  exprefllons,  and  lifelefs  in  his  de- 
livery ;  if  unhappily  difpofed  to  bewilder  himfelf 
with  metaphyuc,  or  to  bring  forward  points  of  con- 
troverfy  ;  if,  in  fliort,  his  preaching  be  of  the  dry, 
fpeculative  kind,  he  cannot  profit  his  charge  in  the 
higheft  degree.  But  if  the  chriftian.  temper  and 
practice  be  the  prevailing  theme  of  difcourfe,  he  may 
be  the  happy  inftrument  of  turning  many  from  the 
error  of  their  ways,  and  confirming  them  in  a  courfe 
of  virtue. 

Thus  entertained,  "  bieffed  are  they  who  dwell  in 
the  houfe  of  God."  They  are  in  the  way  of  receiv- 
ing the  moft  important  religious  impreflions.  They 
are  in  the  way  of  learning  their  duty  in  all  its 

branches  5 


190  ON    PUBLIC    WORSHIP.  [SeRM.  XVI. 

branches  ;  and  hearing  the  moil  perfuafive  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  its  practice.  In  one  word,  they 
are  in  the  way  of  becoming  wife  to  falvation.  For 
this  very  end,  the  public  folemnities  of  religion  were 
inftituted  ;  the  Lord's-day  was  fingled  out  as  a  day 
of  reft  and  devotion  ;  churches  were  ereded,  and 
minifters  appointed  to  the  facred  office,  in  order  that 
Chriftians  might  have  every  advantage  for  the  im- 
provement of  their  minds,  and  the  regulation  of 
their  lives.  On  fuch,  therefore,  as  attend  with  this 
view,  we  may  pronounce  a  bleffing.  They  will  af- 
furedly  go  on  from  llrength  to  ftrength,  and  from 
grace  to  grace.  Their  good  habits  will  be  eftablifhed, 
and  their  evil  ones  corrected.  And  they  will  be  fit- 
ted for  a  world,  where  the  temple  of  God  will  ftand 
open  day  and  night  ;  and  where  the  perfections  of 
his  nature,  and  the  redemption  through  his  fon,  will 
be  the  fubjed  of  unceafmg  praife. 

The  houfe  of  God  prefenting,  therefore,  fuch 
fcenes  of  religious  pleafure,  and  its  fervices  affording 
fuch  improvement,  how  thankful  ought  we  to  be, 
that  we  are  permitted  to  dwell  in  that  houfe  ?  How 
cordially  fliould  we  welcome  the  I^ord*s-day  ?  And 
how  carefully  fhould  we  improve  the  hours  fet 
apart  for  public  worfhip  ?  Can  there  be  greater  folly 
than  to  lofe  fuch  precious  moments  ?  To  fpend  them 
in  idlenefs,  in  amufements,  or  in  fuch  bufinefs  as  can 
be  tranfafted  within  our  own  doors,  can  there  be  a 
greater  indecency  ?  That  it  is  an  affront  to  God, 
«very  one  will  allow.  Is  it  not  alfo  an  affront  to  fo- 
ciety,  the  laws  of  which  regard  the  Sabbath  as  a 
divine  inftitution  ? 

In  order  to  determine  the  impropriety  of  any  ac- 
tion or  omiffion,  we  ought  to  conlider  their  natural 
tenderxy.     We  fhould  inquire,  what  would  be  the 

confecjuenccj 


Serm.  XVI.J        on  public  worship*  191 

confequence,  fliould  men,  in  general,  violate  or  neg* 
lecl  the  particular  law,  which  we  have  in  contempla- 
tion. Thus,  for  inftance,  in  regard  to  the  Lord's- 
day,  the  queftion  ought  to  be,  what  effect  would  it 
have  on  fociety,  fhould  its  members  univerfally  dif- 
regard  it  ?  A  man  is  apt  to  think,  that  his  particular 
example  can  be  of  little  moment.  He  will  fay, 
though  I  fhould  not  appear  abroad,  others  will. 
Should  my  feat  be  vacant,  that  of  others  will  be  fill- 
ed. The  houfe  of  God  will  not  be  deferted.  Some 
there  are,  who  fteadily  attend,  and  they  will  be  fuf- 
ficient  in  number  to  keep  up  appearances.  I  may, 
therefore,  indulge  myfelf  with  ftaying  at  home.  It 
is  probable,  I  fhall  not  be  miffed  ;  or,  if  I  am,  my 
abfence  will  not  be  efteemed  a  novelty. 

But  this  is  taking  up  the  fubjecl  in  a  very  wrong 
manner,  and  treating  it  with  great  unfairtiefs.  The 
queftion  is  not,  whether  the  abfence  of  an  individual 
will  be  an  objecl  of  public  notice  ;  but  whether  fuch 
neglect  of  a  facred  inftitution,  in  itfelf  conlidered,  is 
not  highly  injurious  to  fociety.  If  I  abfent  myfelf 
from  worlhip  without  a  juftifying  reafon,  may  not 
my  neighbour  do  the  fame  ?  And  if  he  does  it,  may 
not  others  follow  his  example  ?  And  fhould  the 
prasclice  be  univerfal,  what  will  become  of  religion 
and  morality  ?  Will  men  remember  a  God,  a  pro- 
vidence, a  moral  government,  and  a  future  ftate,  un- 
lefs  publicly  reminded  of  them  ? 

He,  who  is  capable  of  refledion,  will  perceive, 
that  the  good  order  of  fociety  effentially  depends  up- 
on the  degree  of  religion,  which  prevails  among  its 
members.  How  then  can  that  man  be  a  patriot, 
who  fets  an  example  unfavourable  to  religion  ?  When 
he  profeffes  to  love  his  country,  is  it  poffible  to  be- 
lieve him  ?  Did  he  feel  interefted  in  the  public  wel- 
fare, 


i^i  ON   PUBLIC    WORSHIP.  [SeRM  XVI, 

fare,  would  he  not  avoid  a  praclice,  which,  if  uni- 
verfally  followed,  would  be  the  ruin  of  foeiety  ? 

But  leaving  political  coniiderations,  let  us  conlider 
the  matter  in  another  point  of  view.  A  man  is  raif- 
ed,  by  the  providence  of  God,  to  the  important  fta- 
tion  of  the  head  of  a  family.  Does  not  humanity 
dictate,  that  he  {hould  fet  fuch  an  example  as  would 
lead  his  domeftic  circle  to  think  highly  of  religion, 
and  to  reverence  its  laws  ?  Is  he  not  wanting  in 
juftice,  in  compaflion,  if  he  does  not  ?  And  may  he 
not  charge  himfelf  with  a  confiderable  portion  of  the 
blame,  fhould  thofe,  who  depend  on  him,  begin  life 
without  religion,  and  end  it  with  infamy  ? 

I  BELIEVE,  there  is  no  man,  who  would  not 
choofe,  that  fo  near  connexions  as  a  wife  and  child- 
ren, fhould  have  fome  religion.  Hence  thofe,  who 
fecretly  difbelieve  the  chriftian  revelation,  have  been 
willing  that  it  fhould  obtain  credit  in  their  family. 
They  have  been  ready  to  fupport  it  as  an  ufeful  in- 
vention. And  it  has  been  their  choice,  that  all  con- 
nected with  them  in  domeftic  life,  fliould  be  educat- 
ed in  the  principles,  and  taught  to  obey  the  laws  of 
Chriftianity.  But  of  what  avail  are  religious  in- 
ftruftions,  unlefs  enforced  by  a  correfponding  ex- 
ample ?  To  children  and  fervants,  and  indeed,  I 
may  fay,  to  all,  pradice  preaches  louder  than  words. 
If  they  perceive  no  figns  of  religion  in  thofe,  to 
whom  they  are  taught  to  look  up  as  to  a  head,  vain 
is  it  to  exped,  they  will  ever  be  formed  to  virtue  by 
inftrudion.  The  eloquence  of  angels  could  not  fay 
fo  much  in  favour  of  religion,  as  an  habitual  neg- 
lect of  its  public  inftitutions  would  argue  againft  it. 

With  all  earneftnefs,  I  mult,  therefore,  urge  upon 
all,  a  ftated  attendance  on  public  worfliip,  and  fuch 
an  improvement  of  the  Lord's-day,  as  they  can  an- 

fwer 


SeRM.  XVI.]  ON    PUBLIC    WORSHIP.  19^ 

fwer  to  their  own  confclences.  Where  can  be  the 
hardfhip  of  going  to  the  houfe  of  God,  and  joining 
in  its  folemnities  ?  Only  one  day  in  feven  is  fet 
apart  for  this  purpofe.  And  but  a  very  fmall  por- 
tion of  that  day  is  demanded  for  the  public  offices 
of  devotion.  How  unreafonable,  then,  is  it  to  re- 
fufe  compliance  with  an  obligation,  which  can  be 
difcharged  with  fo  little  inconvenience  ? 

Let  thefe  confiderations  difpofe  every  one  to  re- 
member his  duty  to  God,  to  fociety,  to  his  family, 
and  the  influence  of  his  example.  And  let  me  in- 
treat  you,  not  to  forfake  the  aflembling  of  yourfelves 
together,  as  the  manner  of  fome  is.  May  you  ex- 
perience all  the  bleflednefs  of  thofe,  who  dwell  in 
the  houfe  of  the  Lord.  May  the  pleafures  of  pure 
devotion  be  your  portion  in  this  world,  as  they  will 
conftitute  your  higheft  happinefs  in  the  world  to 
come.  From  the  difpenfation  of  the  word,  may 
you  derive  continual  improvement.  Received  into 
honeft  hearts,  may  the  truths  of  Chriilianity,  like 
good  feed,  bring  forth  an  hundred  fold.  Thus  im- 
proving in  all  fpiritual  wifdom  and  chriftian  virtue, 
whiift  you  adorn  religion,  may  you  experience  its 
comforts  ;  and  hereafter  may  receive  the  full  rewards 
of  righteoufnefs,  from  him,  whom  you  have  wor- 
fhippcd,  and  obeyed. 


A  a  Sermon 


L94'  OPEN  PROFESSION  [Serm.  XVII. 


)eiinon  xvii. 


On  an  open  Profeffion  of  Chriftianity. 

John  xii.  4:?. 

"  NEVERTHELESS,  AMONG  THE  CHIEF  RULERS,  ALSO, 
MANY  BELIEVED  ON  HIM  ;  BUT  BECAUSE  OF  THE 
PHARISEES,  THEY  DID  NOT  CONFESS  HIM,  LEST 
THEY  SHOULD  BE  PUT  OUT  OF  THE  SYNAGOGUE." 

IT  is  an  obfervation  of  one,  v/lio  was  deeply  verfed 
in  the  fcience  of  human  nature,  that  "  the  fear  of 
man  bringeth  a  fnare."  Among  innumerable  fa6ts, 
to  which  we  may  appeal,  in  confirmation  of  this  re- 
mark, I  know  not  one  more  clear  and  decided  than 
that,  which  is  recorded  in  the  text.  With  unexam- 
pled fidelity,  and  perfevering  diligence,  our  Saviour 
had  unfolded  the  doftrines  of  his  religion.  He  had, 
likewife,  done  many  miracles,  in  atteftation  of  his 
divine  appointment,  to  enlighten  and  reform  the 
v/orld.  Still,  the  infidelity  of  the  nation  juftified  that 
complaint,  "  who  hath  believed  our  report ;  and  to 
whom  hath  the  arm  of  the  Lord  been  revealed"  !  In 
them  were  verified  the  words  of  the  prophet,  when 
he  beheld  the  faviour  and  fpake  of  him  :  "He  hath 
blinded  their  eyes,  and  hardened  their  heart  j  that 
they  Ihould  not  fee  with  their  eyes,  nor  underftand 
with  their  heart,  arid  be  convei'ted,  and  I  fliould  heal 
them." 

But  though  many  of  the  Jews,  to  whom  the  Son 
of  God  propofed  his  religion,  were  unconvinced  of 
its  truth-,  yet  there  were  more  believers  in  reality, 

than 


SeRM.  XVIIJ  of    CHRISTIANITY.  I95 

than  in  appearance.  Among  perfons  of  rank,  there 
were  fome,  who  yielded  to  the  evidence,  by  which 
Chriftianity  was  fupported.  They  perceived,  that  he 
fpake  with  authority  ;  and  that  his  works  eftabUfhed 
his  pretenfions.  In  their  hearts,  therefore,  they  re- 
ceived him  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  Saviour  of  men. 
Still,  they  wanted  firmnefs  to  make  a  public  confef- 
fion  of  their  faith.  The  fcribes  and  pharifees  had  it 
in  their  power  to  fix  a  ftigma  on  any  eharac1:er. 
Th€y  could  expofe  the  object  of  their  difpleafure  to 
the  pubUc  odium.  And  they  could  expel  from  their 
fynagogue,  any  perfon,  whofe  religious  or  poHtical 
principles  did  not  accord  with  their  own.  This  un- 
due influence,  both  within  the  fynagogue  and  with- 
out, rendered  them  very  formidable  in  fociety.  So 
powerfully  did  it  operate  upon  fome  timid  believers, 
a-s  to  induce  them,  though  not  to  ftifle,  yet  to  make 
a  fecret  of  their  convidion.  Of  this  defcription  was 
Nicodemus,  a  ruler  of  the  Jews.  He  came  to  Jefus 
by  night,  that  there  might  be  no  witneffes  of  the 
vifit ;  and  that  none  but  his  faviour  might  hear  the 
momentous  confeflion,  "  Rabbi,  we  know  that  thou 
art  a  teacher  come  from  God ;  for  no  man  can  do 
thefe  miracles,  which  thou  doft,  except  God  be  with 
liim."  And  under  the  fame  apprehenfions,  were 
thofe  defcribed  in  the  text :  "  Neverthelefs,  among 
the  chief  rulers,  alfo,  many  beheved  on  him  ;  but 
becaufe  of  the  pharifees,  they  did  not  confefs  him, 
left  they  fliould  be  put  out  of  the  fynagogue":  "  for,** 
it  is  added,  "  they  loved  the  praife  of  men  more  than 
the  praife  of  God.'* 

What  a  humbling  view  of  human  nature  have  we 
in  this  paffage  ?  We  behold  perfons,  elevated  in  fo- 
ciety, and  capable  of  influencing  others  by  their  ex- 
ample, afraid  to  declare  themfelves  Clyriftians !    In 

the 


19^  OPEN  profession;  [Serm.  XVIL 

the  conflift  between  popularity  and  principle,  wc 
perceive  the  latter  bending  to  the  former  1  We  ob- 
ferve  more  deference  paid  to  the  unworthy  pharifees, 
than  to  the  m.andates  of  God !  Well  might  our  di- 
vine Lord  caution  his  followers  againft  the  fear  of 
man.  In  the  inftance  before  us,  we  fee  how  enfnar- 
ing  it  is  ;  and  that  there  is  no  end  to  the  mifchiefs 
and  inconliftencies,  into  which  it  will  betray  thofe, 
"who  are  under  its  dominion ! 

But,  to  return  to  the  text— The  firft  remark, 
fuggefted  in  the  paflage  before  us,  is  the  indifpenfable 
obligation,  which  every  man  is  under,  to  own  him- 
felf  a  Chriftlan,  if  perfuaded  that  Chriftianity  is  true. 
The  author  of  our  religion  has  not  left  us  at  liberty, 
either  to  conceal  or  avow  our  fentiments,  as  we  may 
happen  to  think  it  moft  expedient.  If  we  believe  in 
our  hearts,  we  are  commanded  to  confefs  with  our 
mouths,  the  Lord  Jefus.  "  For  with  the  heart,  man 
belleveth  unto  righteoufnefs  ;  and  with  the  mouth, 
confeilion  is  made  unto  falvatlon.  And  the  fcripture 
faith,  whofoever  belleveth  on  him,  Ihall  jiot  be 
afliamed.'* 

Our  Saviour  laid  the  greateft  ftrefs  on  a  public 
confeilion  of  the  truth  and  divinity  of  his  religion, 
in  every  cafe,  where  its  evidence  had  produced  con- 
viction. This  was  implied  in  all  his  invitations  ;; 
and  it  was  exaftcd  of  every  one,  who  declared  him- 
felf  his  follower.  His  language  was  to  this  efFeft  ; 
Go,  tell  the  world,  that  you  are  not  alhamed  of  my 
perfon  or  caufe  ;  ajQTure  them,  that  you  receive  me 
as  the  expected  MefTiah,  and  invite  them  to  follow 
your  example.  They  will  object  the  meannefs  of 
my  appearance  ;  the  felf-denying  leffons  which  I 
teach  ;  the  low  and  obfcure  ftate  of  my  earthly  con- 
nexions 5  and  the  contradiction  of  my  circumftan- 

CCS 


Serm.  XVIL]  of  CHRISTIANITY.  197 

ces  to  thofe,  which  would  diftinguifli  him,  whofe 
arm  would  accomplifh  the  reftoration  of  Ifrael. 
Still,  convinced  yourfelves,  you  are  to  bear  an  un- 
deviating  teftimony  to  my  character,  as  the  faviour 
promifed  to  mankind.  You  are  not  to  be  flattered, 
or  to  be  awed  into  lilence.  But,  fuperior  to  fear 
and  ftiame,  you  are  to  confefs  me  before  men  :  and 
I,  in  return,  will  confefs  you  before  my  father,  and 
before  the  angels. 

Such,  in  effect,  were  the  leflbns  taught  by  our 
Lord  in  perfon.  The  apoftles  fpake  the  fame  lan- 
guage. A  magnanimous  confelfion,  that  Jefus  is  the 
Chrift,  was  abfolutely  required  of  all,  who  yielded 
to  the  force  of  their  arguments  in  defence  of  the 
gofpel.  The  early  converts  were  not  allov/ed  to 
confult  their  convenience,  their  popularity,  or  their 
fafety.  No  arts  of  concealment  were  to  be  pradifed 
by  them  :  but  they  were  to  take  their  chance  in  the 
world,  as  Chriftians  in  faith,  and  Chriftians  in  pro- 
feflion.  Otherwife,  their  lilence  was  to  be  conftrued 
into  a  denial  of  the  faviour,  and  a  reiignation  of  all 
the  expectations  excited  by  the  gofpel. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  the  belief  and  profef- 
fion  of  Chriftianity  were  infeparable  in  the  view  of 
its  great  author,  and  of  thofe  who  were  commiffion- 
ed  by  him  to  propagate  its  truths,  and  to  extend  its; 
empire  in  the  world.  They  acknowledged  none  to 
be  Chriftians,  who  did  not  openly  acknowledge 
themfelves  under  that  denomination.  Nor  have  we 
any  authority  to  fet  afide  their  regulations,  or  to  re- 
cede from  their  example.  If  we  believe  the  religion 
of  Jefus  to  be  divine,  we  are  bound  to  proclaim  our 
alTent  to  it,  and  our  refpecl  for  him,  by  whom  it 
was  communicated  to  mankind.  We  ought  to  make 
a  public  declaration,  that  "  we  are  not.  ailiamed  of 

the 


19^  OPEN    PROFESSION  [SeRM.  XVII. 

the  gofpel  of  Chrift,  inafmuch  as  it  Is  the  power  of 
God  to  falvation  to  every  one  who  believeth.'* 

This  may  be  done  by  a  verbal  acknowledgment 
of  its  truth,  accompanied  with  the  regular  obferv- 
ance  of  its  pofitive  inftitutions.  In  this  manner,  the 
primitive  Chriftians  did  homage  to  the  truth.  As 
foon  as  convidtion  took  place,  they  openly  declared 
their  approbation  of  the  gofpel  ;  received  baptifm  ; 
put  themfelves  under  the  direction  of  the  faviour  ; 
and  after  his  death,  united  in  the  ftated  commemo- 
ration of  that  great  event.  You  will  obferve,  I  am 
now  fpeaking  of  thofe  who  were  perfons  of  firm- 
nefs  and  principle  ;  and  who  preferred  the  appro- 
bation of  God,  and  their  own  confciences,  to  the 
applaufes  of  men. 

And  thus  ftiould  we,  at  this  age,  confefs  the  fenti- 
ments,  which  we  entertain,  refpecling  the  chriftian 
religion.  Convinced  that  God  fpake  by  Chrift,  we 
fliould  appear  open  advocates  of  his  canfe.  We 
fhould  give  countenance  to  the  gofpel  by  an  unequiv- 
ocal acknowledgment  of  the  high  eftimation  in  which 
we  hold  it.  We  fliould  receive  it  as  our  rule  of  life. 
And  as  aclions  are  more  expreflive  of  our  fentiments 
than  words,  we  fliould  celebrate  the  communion  ; 
or,  more  plainly  fpeaking,  fliould,  in  a  public  man- 
ner, commemorate  the  tragical  death  of  our  bleffed 
Redeemer.  This  is  confeffing  the  Son  of  God  in  the 
fenfe  of  the  gofpel,  and  agreeably  to  his  own  direc- 
tion. Nor,  if  we  believe,  can  we,  with  any  confift- 
cncy  or  propriety,  decline  this  public  confeffion.  For 
the  fame  lips,  which  commanded  truth  and  juftice, 
humility  and  benevolence,  purity  and  devotion,  com- 
manded an  explicit  acknowledgment,  that  Jefus  is 
the  Chrift.  And  the  fame  lips  which  declared,  that 
workers  of  iniquity  would  be  rejeded  at  the  great 

day. 


SeRM.  XVIL]  of    CHRISTIANITY.  199 

day,  declared  likewife,  that  they,  who  dared  not  to 
confefs  him  before  men,  would  be  involved  in  the 
fame  ignominious  fate. 

The  queftion,  however,  may  be  alked,  why  a 
formal  profeffion  of  Chriftianity  is  fo  binding  on  all, 
who  believe  it  to  be  a  religion  from  above  ?  Why 
may  not  a  perfon  keep  his  fentiments  to  himfelf  ? 
Whence  the  neceflity  that  he  fliould  proclaim  to  the 
world,  that  he  is  a  Chriftian  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that 
he  believes,  with  his  whole  heart,  the  truths  incul- 
cated by  Chrift  ;  that  he  efteems  him  a  perfect  ex- 
ample ;  and  that  he  builds  all  his  future  hopes  on  the 
promifes  and  difcoveries  of  the  gofpel  ?  In  a  certain 
cafe,  the  apoftle  fays,  "  haft  thou  faith,  keep  it  to 
thyfelf  ;'*  why  may  not  this  counfel  admit  of  a  gen- 
eral application  ? 

I  ANSWER — If  a  public  profeflion  be  abfolutely  en- 
joined by  Chrift,  that,  of  itfelf,  ought  to  overrule 
every  objection.  We  have  no  right  to  demand  the 
particular  reafon  of  every  law,  as  a  condition  of  our 
obedience.  There  may  be  reafons  in  the  divine 
mind,  which  are  incomprehenfible  by  finite  beings. 
If,  therefore,  no  conceivable  end  could  be  obtained 
by  our  religious  confeflion,  ftill  the  command  would 
retain  all  its  obligation.  To  know  that  any  particu- 
lar acl  is  the  will  of  Chrift,  is  to  know  that  we  are 
abfolutely  bound  to  its  performance. 

But  all  the  reafons  of  the  duty  before  us,  are  not 
infcr.utable.  We  are  focial  beings  ;  Chriftianity  is  a 
common  caufe  ;  and  its  moral  influence  on  the  hu- 
man heart  greatly  depends  on  the  mutual  counte- 
nance, and  united  efforts  of  its  believers.  The  open 
confellion  of  one,  tends  to  draw  the  fame  confeffion 
from  another  ;  and  by  means  of  thefe  confeifions, 
the  public  attention  is  directed  towards  the  chriftian 

religion ; 


200  0?£N    PROFESSION  [SeRM.  XVII. 

religion  ;  and  the  caufe  affumes  importance  in  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude.  The  human  kind  being  prone 
to  imitation,  one  profelTed  believer  will  incline  many 
to  examine,  and  encourage  many  to  acknowledge 
their  aflent  to  the  gofpel. 

Td  feel  the  weight  and  importance  of  thefe  obfer- 
vations,  let  us  only  reflect,  how  much  every  caufe 
is  indebted  to  its  open  advocates.  What  v/ould 
have  been  the  political  flate  of  our  country,  if  the 
opinions  of  the  patriot  had  been  locked  up  in  his 
own  bofom  ?  The  believers  in  civil  freedom  misht 
have  imitated  thofe  believers  of  the  gofpel,  who  are 
mentioned  in  the  text.  They  might  have  felt  a 
ftrong  convidion,  that  there  arc  rights,  which  are 
the  noble  inheritance  of  every  human  being.  But 
the  apprehenfion  of  perfonal  danger  might  have  in- 
duced them  to  make  a  fecret  of  this  conviction.  If 
they  had  afted  this  over  cautious  part,  their  princi- 
ples would  have  been  ufelefs  to  fociety  ;  and  the  rod 
of  oppreflion  w^ould  have  remained  unbroken.  But 
daring  to  avow  what  they  had  greatnefs  to  conceive, 
many  converts  were  made  to  the  caufe  of  civil  free- 
dom. Their  opinions  were  dilTeminated  ;  their  ex- 
ample was  followed  ;  and  principles  were  put  in  ac- 
tion, which,  under  God,  produced  one  of  the  moft 
extraordinary  events  recorded  in  the  hiftory  of  man. 

But,  like  confequences  may  be  expected  from  re- 
ligious, as  from  civil  profeffions.  Every  perfon,  who 
owns  himfelf  a  Chriftian,  gives  countenance  to  the 
facred  caufe  of  truth  and  virtue  :  he  often  commu- 
nicates, with  his  religious  fentiments,  a  portion  of 
his  own  zeal.  This  renders  his  chriftian  confeflion 
of  infinite  importance  to  others.  Whilft  it  enlight- 
ens and  animates,  it  powerfully  perfuades  them  to 
go  and  do  likewife.     The  exprefs  command  of  Chrifir, 

and 


SeRM.  XVII.]  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  20I 

and  the  vifible  confequences  of  obedience  in  this  in- 
stance, fhow,  that  the  belief  of  Chriftianity  ought 
ever  to  be  accompanied  with  its  public  profeffion. 

I  NOW  proceed  to  a  fecond  confideration,  namely, 
the  prevailing  neglect  of  this  duty,  and  its  probable 
caufe.  The  rulers,  mentioned  in  the  text,  concealed 
their  belief,  becaufe  they  knew  the  temper  of  the 
pharifees  ;  and  were  apprehenfive,  that,  if  their  fen- 
timents  were  difclofed,  they  fliould  be  call  out  of 
the  fynagogue.  Fear,  therefore,  induced  them  to 
make  a  fecret  of  their  faith  ;  and  it  may  be  reafon- 
ably  fuppofed,  that  the  fame  principle  prevailed  with 
many  others  to  follow  their  example.  They  could 
not  bring  themfelves  to  a  voluntary  renunciation  of 
the  public  good  opinion,  of  eafe,  of  intereft,  and  o£ 
perfonal  fafety,  for  the  fake  of  a  calumniated  Saviour, 
and  an  unpopular  caufe. 

The  dangers,  which  they  apprehended,  do  not 
exift  at  the  prefent  age.  The  chrillian  profeffion  is 
not  attended  with  any  particular  odium  :  but,  if  it 
is  not  unpopular,  it  is  unfafhionabie  to  acknowledge 
Chrift,  and  our  refped:  for  his  religion  :  and  this  is 
a  circumftance,  which  operates  moft  unfavourably  to 
the  gofpcl.  Some,  who  do  not  confefs,  though  they 
believe  the  chriftian  religion,  may  be  reilrained  by 
other  caufes.  There  are  eminently  good  perfons,  who 
diftruft  their  own  moral  qualifications  to  confefs  the 
Son  of  God,  in  the  manner  which  he  has  prefcribed. 
Unhappily  for  them,  and  for  the  caufe,  they  have 
been  led  into  erroneous  opinions,  relative  to  this 
duty.  Under  the  influence  of  thefe  opinions,  whilft 
their  hearts  have  been  with  thofe  who  confefled  the 
Saviour,  they  have  not  perfonally  affifted  in  this  act 
of  hom.age. 

Others  have  imitated  the  example  in  the  text, 
Bb  not 


202  ©PEN    PROFESSION  [SeRM.  XVII, 

not  from  any  fufpicion  of  their  own  unworthinefs, 
but  from  doubts  of  tlie  real  neceffity  of  a  public  pro- 
feflion.  They  have  thought  it  enough  to  obferve 
thofe  feafons,  which  are  confecrated  to  religion,  and 
to  attend  its  public  oiEces  ;  to  have  their  infant  ofF- 
fpring  dedicated  to  the  Saviour,  and  to  make  the 
plainer  principles  and  duties  of  Chriftianity  a  part  of 
their  early  education.  But,  if  religious  communion 
be  abfolutely  required  by  Chrift,  who  fhall  prefume 
:to  call  its  neceffity  in  queftion  ?  If,  in  his  view,  it 
be  effential  to  a  public  confeffion  of  his  divine  au- 
thority, it  ought  furely  to  be  obferved.  Can  we  en- 
tertain a  fufpicion  of  his  fuperior  wifdom  ;  or  dare 
we  fet  up  our  judgment  in  oppofition  to  his  ? 

Of  thofe,  who  do  not  confefs  Chrift,  the  greater 
number,  however,  are  not  influenced  by  this  confid- 
eration.  The  true  caufe  of  this  growing  neglect 
muft  be  the  fears,  which  many  entertain,  of  the  re- 
marks to  which  their  profeffion  of  Chriftianity  might 
give  occafion.  When  iniquity  abounds,  many  pro- 
fane liberties  will  be  taken  with  ferious  things,  and 
ferious  perfons.  Scoffers,  walking  after  their  own 
lufts,  v/ill  endeavour  to  render  the  chriftian  name  a 
term  of  reproach.  And  many  circumftances  will 
concur,  in  an  age  of  licentioufnefs,  to  make  an  open 
avowal  of  our  refped  for  Chriftianity,  and  our  refo- 
lution  to  follow  its  precepts,  unfafliionable.  Now, 
the  fear  of  incurring  this  cenfure  prevents  many 
from  acting  independently  ;  and  induces  them  to 
with-hold  their  countenance  from  the  caufe  of  reli- 
gion. They  have  not  refolution  to  own  themfelves 
Chriftians.  If  they  could  rife  fuperior  to  their  fears, 
they  would  declare,  that  they  are  not  afliamed  of  the 
gofpel  ;  and  would  unite  with  others  in  defending 
its  honour,  and  promoting  its  interefts. 

From 


SbRM.XVII.]  of    CHRISTIANITY*  2;03'. 

.From  the  fubjecl  of  this  difcourfc,  we  are  led  tjC^i 
refledl  on  the  fatal  tendency  of  a  llavifli  fear  of  mai^j 
where  religion  and  duty  are  concerned.  We  hami 
feen  how  it  operated  on  fome,  who  were  eontempo- 
rary  with  our  Saviour,  and  who  were  convinced, of 
his  high  appointment  to  blefs  mankind,  :by  turning;, 
them  ftora  their  iniquities.  They,  would  notit^l^e) 
up  their  crofs  andifollow  him  j.  nor  would  they  puj?* 
chafe  his  frieridihip,:.  at  the  expenfe  of  their  fqat  ixi? 
the  fyhagogue,  and  the  good  opinion  of:  QUV  L'ord'ir 
enemies.  ioih6irxoo  s:  b:jaio'\(i9 

These  things  were  written  for  our  admonition  2- 
and  they  ought  to  put  us  on  our  guard,  left  we  £il^ 
into  their  condemnation,  who  loved  the  praife  oC 
men  more  than  the  praife  of  God.  "  A  good  name/'r 
it  iii'^acknowledged,  "  is  better  than  much  riches^''; 
A'fid  to  commend  c  ourfelves  to  all,  in.  the  fight  o^ 
God,  is  a  duty  of  religion.  But  this  good  name;  ijt 
not^  to  bepurchafed  at -the  expenfe  of  any  one  vir- 
tue y  hor  are  we  tb  acl.againft  the  convidion  of  our* 
own  reafon,  in  any  fingle  inftarice,  in  order  to  couciL: 
iate  the  favour  of  others.  The  fear  of  man  muft  i)€f. 
overcome:  we  muft  confider  what  is  right  ;  and  we 
miift  leave  the  confequences  with  hinrj  jwhQ  is  ti^ 
di^ofer  of  all  events.-  -  :  •^:  fr       -.  Y.r^ 

0  This  is  agreeable  to  that  dire<5tioH  of'  our  bleffed 
Saviour,  "fear  not  them  that  kill  the  body  y.  but 
rather  fear  him,  who. is  able  to  deftroy  both. foul 
and  body.'*  Upon  the  favour  of  God,  our  futur^ 
well-being  abfolutely  depends.  If  he  is  oiir  frie«i<[J^ 
we  muft  be  happy.  But  if  objects  of  his  dijTpleafure?^ 
the  approbation  of  the  whole  world  will  profit  us 
nothing.  In  another  ftate,  it  will  afford  us  no  con- 
folation  to  reflect,  ..that  we  have  been  on  friendly 
terms  with  men,  if  to  gain  them  we  have  made  a 
i:X.r:-^^  facrifice 


204  OPEN    PROFESSION,  ^c.  [SeRM.  XVH. 

fsicrifice  of  faith  and  a  good  confcience.  So  far  from 
it,  this  coniideration  will  embitter  our  future  fufFer- 
ings.  n  vtif'>  hr; 

-'These  obfervations  deferve  the  ferious  attention 
of  all,  who  refpect  the  religion  of  Jefus  ;  and  believe 
it  to  be  divine.  They  cannot  ftand  acquitted  to  their 
own  confciences,  unlefs  they  do  whatfoever  the  Sa- 
viour has  commanded.  But  is  it  not  his  command, 
that  they  who  are  convinced  of  his  miflion  into  this 
world,  fliould  publifh  their  conviction  ?  Has  he  not 
enjoined  a  confeffion  of  his  religion  in  the  ftrongeft 
pdffible  terms  ?  Has  he  riot  declared,  that  a  refufal 
will  be  attended  with  the  moft  ihameful  confequ'en- 
ces  ?  What  prefumption  then  is  it,  to  live  in  contin- 
ual neglect  of  a  duty,  which  is  fo  folemnly  enjoined  j 
and  which  the  Saviour  of  men  has  made  the  teftof 
dtir  affection  for  himi  and  the  condition  of  his  fu- 
ture approbation.  '  .  ::r;  i  -  l  ; 
-'iDo  yoij' unfeignedly  believe  that  Chrift  was  font 
fi'om  God,  to' recover  the  human  kind  to  the  know- 
ledge and  pradice  of  virtue  ?  Do  you  believe  that 
his  religion  is  a  divine  inftitution  ?  Do  you  aifent: 
to  the  perfeftlon  of  his  example  ?  Then  openly  con- 
fefs  your  admiration  of  the  Saviour,  and  your  be- 
lief of  the  gofpel  :  and  glory  in  a  fyftem  of  faith 
and  praftice,  fo  worthy  of  God,  and  fo  conducive 
to  the  moral  imipf  ovement  of  your  nature.  Let  the 
profeflions  of  yoiir  lips  be  verified  by  the  tenor  of 
youf  practice.  Then  will  you  have  boldnefs  in  the 
day  of  the  Lord.  That  favioui-,  whom  you  have 
confefled,  will  proclaim  your  fidelity,  and  conduct 
y-6u  to  the  kingdom  of  his  father. 


SeRM.  XVIII. j  OBSERVATION,  &c.  10$ 


Sermon  xviii. 


On  the  Obfervation  of  the  Lord's-day. 
Revelation  i.   io. 

"  I  WAS  IN  THE  SPIRIT  ON  THE  LORI^'S-DAY." 

IT  was  a  fpecial  injuncftion  on  the  ancient  people  of 
God  J  to  remember  the  fabbath-day  ;  and  to  keep 
it  holy.  The  reafon  for  diflinguiihing  this  day 
fr6m  all  others,  is  affigne4  in  the  following  words  s 
"For. in  fix  days,  Jehovah  made heayfen and eafth, the 
fea,  and  all  that  in  them  is,  and  refted  thie  feventh 
day:  wherefore,  the  Lord  bleiled  the  fabbath-day, 
and  hallowed  it.'*  In  qbedience  to  this  divine  com-^^ 
mand^.  the  people  abftalned  from  all  manner  j-ofwotit 
on  that  day  ;  and  they  permitted  theii^  fefvants^and 
cattle  to  enjoy  a  temporary  repofe.  The  mQre  C0«- 
fcientious  Jevvs  continued,  in  this  fnanner^ topbferY^ 
the  fabbath,  even  to  thegofpel  age. ,  They  fufpende^dt 
their  ordinary  labours  ;  and,  for  their  mutual  iitl? 
provement,  they  affembled  in  fynagogues,  where 
feled:  portions  of  the  lav.:  were  read  and  explained* 
Our  bleffed  Saviour  himfelf  conformed  to  this  prac- 
tice. Hence,  we  often  read  of  his  vifits  to  the  fyna- 
gogue,  and.of  the  admirable  leffons  of  wiiUom  ^aad 
piety  which  proceeded  from  his  lips.  wj   i  rxrv 

After  his  refurreftion,  the  lirft  day  of  the  week 
began  to  comniand  the  reverence  of' ihi^  followers^ 
becaufe,  on  that  day,  he  arofe  from  the  grave  j  and 
becaufe,  on  that  day.  In  preferencie  to  any  other,  he 
more  than  once  appeared  to  his  difciples.  Thus  we 
:uto  read 


(iO$  OBSERVATION   OTf  [SeRM.  XVUI. 

read  in  the  facred  hiftory  of  our  Saviour,  "  the  fame 
day,  at  evening,  being  the  Jirji  day  of  the  week, 
when  tlie  doors  were  fliut,  where  the  difciples  were 
affembled,  came  Jefus,  and  flood  in  the  midft,  and 
faith  unto  them,  peace  be  unto  you."  After  the 
revolution  of  another  week,  the  difciples  received 
another  vilit  from  their  divine  mailer  ;  and  were 
honoured  with  the  fame  benedidion.  His  rifing  and 
appearing  on  the  iirft  d^y  would,  therefore,  naturally 
excite  a  religious  refpecl  for  it  ;  and  would  lead  the 
Gentile  converts  at  leaft  .to"  obferve  it  aS  their  fab- 
bath,  ■•>  ijuj.  :  VjcJj- :  .;:.^.>iji  i^n.,  ■;.';.;....,;..:  oj  JjO.'^j  Jl 
Tnksk, :'ho#ever,  are  "lYOt-  the  only'" argtiinents 
which  can  be  offered  in  vindication  of  the  Lord's- 
day.  The  apoflles,  who  were  divinely  infpired,  con- 
fecrated  that  day  to  public  worfhip,  religious  infiruc- 
tiori,  and  chriflian  commu'niori.  We  may,  therefore, 
conclude,  that:  they  had  the  approbation  of  Chrifl, 
who  was  prefent  with  them  by  means  of  the  holy 
ipirit ;  and  who  really  taught  them  what  they  fhould 
f|>eak,  and  how  they  fhould  conduct.  As  to  the 
Jeu'ifh  converts,  they  were  allowed  to  keep  both  the 
feventh  and  the  firfl  day  :  but  the  duty  of  the  Gen- 
tile converts  was"  dearly  prefcribed  by  the  practice 
of  the  apoflles.  The  example  of  men  in  their  ex- 
traordinary circumftances  ;  men  who  were  fuper- 
naturally  enlightened  ;  men  who  were  ambaffadors 
of  the  Son  of  God  ;  the  example  of  fuch  men  muft 
be  equivalent  to  any  formal  command.  •■  That  it 
was  thus  viewed  by  fucceeding  Chriflians,  is  moil 
certain  ;  for  it  would  otherwife  be  impoflible- -  to 
account  for;  the  general  obfervance  of  the  Lord's- 
day.  ; 

To  fuch  as  are  imprelTed  with  thefe  fa^ls,  the  fol- 
lowing exhortation  will  not  feem  an  unreafonable 
>•.;":  abridgment 


\ 

Serm.  XVIIL]         the  lorD'*s-day,  207 

abridgment  of  chriftian  liberty.  Remember  the 
Lord's-day  to  keep  it  holy.  In  it,  thou  jQialt  do  no 
unneceffary  work  ;  but,  abftaining  from  dillrading 
cares,  and  diffipating  pleafures,  thou  flialt  call  up  to 
view  the  Saviour  of  the  world  ;  Ihalt  attend  to  the 
counfels  of  his  religion  ;  llialt  render  public  homage, 
in  his  name,  to  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  univerfe  ; 
and  fhalt  perform  the  more  private  offices  of  devo- 
tion. For  on  that  day,  the  author  of  our  -falvation 
rofe  from  the  grave  ;  and  brought  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light.  On  that  memorable  day,  he  con- 
founded his  enemies,  and  gave  everlailing  confola- 
tion  to  his  friends.  On  that  glorious  day,  he  proved 
himfelf  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with  power ;  confirmed 
his  divine  religion  ;  obviated  every  objedlion  to  his 
charadler  ;  in  a  manner,  abolilhed  death  ;  became 
the  firft  fruits  of  all  who  fleep  ;  and  laid  a  certain 
foundation  for  the  conqueft  of  all  his  enemies,  and 
for  the  introduction  of  that  glorious  period,  when 
God  will  be  all  in  all  ?  A  day,  confecrated  to  the 
pious  recolledion  of  fo  great  a  perfonage,  fo  great 
a  work,  and  to  fuch  honourable  fervices,  ought  not 
furely  to  be  confounded  with  others.  Cold  muft 
be  that  heart,  which  cannot  be  delighted  by  reflec- 
tions and  duties  proper  to  fuch  a  feafon.  Barren 
muft  be  that  underftanding,  which  rather  endures, 
than  enjoys  the  chriftian  fabbath.  "  This  is  the  day 
which  the  Lord  hath  honoured,  let  us  rejoice  and  be 
glad  therein,'*  feems  to  be  the  natural  language  of 
piety  and  gratitude.  And  it  will  be  our  language, 
as  long  as  we  have  hearts  to  feel,  and  minds  to  be 
entertained. 

The  words,  which  I  have  chofen  as  a  theme  of 
difcourfe,  were  uttered  by  the  venerable  chriftian 
prophet,  who  was  baniflied  to  the  ille  of  Patmos. 

To 


20S  OBSERVATION*   OF  [SeRM.  XVIIL 

To  fweeten  his  folitude,  the  blefled  Jefus  condefcend- 
ed  to  reveal  to  him  many  future,  but  highly  intereft- 
ing  events.  As  a  prelude  to  thefe  difcoveries,  the 
apoftle  was,  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  filled  with 
the  holy  fpirit.  The  time  of  this  illumination  was 
the  Lord's-day.  A  defcription  of  his  folitude,  of 
his  peculiar  ftate  of  mind,  of  the  objects  feen,  and 
the  voices  heard,  we  have  in  the  chapter,  whence  I 
have  taken  the  text.  I  fliall  not  detain  you  with 
them  ;  but,  accommodating  the  words  of  the  holy 
prophet  to  the  prefent  age,  I  fliall  endeavour  to  illuf- 
trate,  and  recommend  the  fpirit  becoming  the 
Lord*s-day. 

After  the  afcenlion  of  our  divine  Lord,  there 
were  extraordinary  communications  of  the  fpirit* 
Thefe,  however,  ceafed,  when  Chriftianity  had  gain- 
ed fo  many  conquefts  in  the  world,  as  to  be  able  to 
fupport  itfelf  by  its  own  intrinfic  excellence,  and 
by  the  external  evidence  with  which  it  was  accom- 
panied. Since  that  time,  there  have  been  no  fuper- 
natural  operations  of  the  fpirit,  though  fome  enthu- 
iiafts  have  imagined  that  they  had  experienced  fuch 
operations.  That  we,  therefore,  fliould  be  in  the 
fpirit  on  the  Lord*s-day,  in  that  fublime  fenfe,  in 
which  the  words  were  ufed  by  the  apoftle,  is  not  to 
be  expecled.  Still  there  is  a  fpirit  which  we  fliould 
carefully  cherifli ;  and  with  whicli  we  fliould  be  filled 
on  the  chriftian  fabbath  :  and  what  that  is,  it  fliall 
be  my  endeavour  to  afcertain. 

A  spirit  of  true  piety  and  fervent  devotion  fliould 
warm  and  anim.ate  every  Chriftian  on  the  Lord's- 
day.  At  that  facred  and  delightful  feafon,  his 
thoughts  fliould  be  called  off  from  other  objefts ; 
and  fliould  be  direcled  towards  God,  and  our  duty  ; 
the  Saviour,  and  the  everlafting  bleflings  purchafed 

by 


Serm.  XVIII.J  l-HE  lord's-day.  209 

by  him.  I  would  not,  however,  be  underftood,  that 
fuch  prous  refleclions  fliould  be  peculiar  to  that  day, 
which  is  more  immediately  claimed  by  religion.  It 
is  the  fatal  miftake  of  fome  perfons,  to  confine  all 
their  ferioufnefs  to  the  fabbath.  With  a  more  than 
Jewifti  rigour,  they  keep  holy  time  j  whilft,  at  other 
times,  God  is  not  in  all  their  thoughts.  Such  con- 
duct is  difedlly  oppofed  to  the  genius  of  the  gofpel  ; 
and  it  is  very  injurious  in  its  tendency.  It  makes 
religion  a  burden,  particularly  to  young  perfons  ;  and 
it  creates  prejudices  againft  it,  which,  perhaps,  may 
never  be  fubdued.  Nor  is  that  all :  they,  who  over- 
do in  fome  things,  are  apt  to  be  deficient  in  others. 
Hence,  the  ftrict  obfervance  of  all  the  moral  duties 
has  not  diftinguiftied  every  one,  who  has  aimed  at 
keeping  a  Jewifh,  rather  than  a  Chriftian  fabbath. 

According  to  the  true  principles  of  the  gofpel, 
every  day  ihould  witnefs  the  devotion  of  thofe,  who 
profefs  themfelves  Chriftians.  A  good  man  fliould 
be  habitually  pious.  He  fliould  feel  the  influence  of 
his  religion,  as  well  on  days  of  labour,  as  days  of 
reft  ;  as  well  when  he  makes  a  bargain,  as  when  he 
makes  a  prayer.  The  fpirit  of  the  gofpel  fliould  ac- 
tuate him  at  all  times  ;  fliould  dired  his  converfation 
always,  and  regulate  his  whole  behaviour.  They, 
who  have  their  feafons  of  devotion,  and  their  fea- 
fons  of  levity  and  folly  ;  their  feafons,  in  which  they 
honour  God,  and  feafons,  in  w^iich  they  fet  his  au- 
thority at  defiance  ;  feafons,  in  which  the  befl:  prin- 
ciples are  profefled,  and  thofe  in  which  very  unfuit- 
able  things  are  praftifed  j  perfons  of  this  defcription 
have  not  any  religion,  which  will  avail  them  at  a 
future  day.  They  may  flatter  themfelves,  that  they 
are  wife  for  both  worlds  :  but  whatever  they  may 
fecure  here,  they  will  lofe  the  portion  offered  them 
hereafter. 

C  c  Tt 


2IO  OBSERVATION    OF  [SeRM.  XVIII. 

It  Ihould,  then,  be  the  aim  of  a  Chriftian,  to  be 
tiniformly  virtuous,  and  habitually  devout.  The 
fpirit  of  his  religion  Hiould  have  a  conftant  and  pre- 
dominant influence  :  ftill  this  influence  fhould  be 
moft  vifible  on  the  Lord's-day.  Excufed  from  the 
calls  of  bufinefs,  and  under  no  neceflity  of  yielding  to 
thofe  of  pleafure,  a  difciple  of  Jefus  fliouid  awaken 
the  fpirit  of  the  gofpel ;  and  fhould  difplay  that  di- 
vine fpirit,  if  not  more  lincerely,  yet  more  vifibly, 
than  at  other  feafons.  Amid  the  cares  of  this  world, 
and  the  dillraclions  of  buiinefs,  the  reftraints  of  re- 
ligion may  be  felt.  But  there  mufl:  be  a  fufpenlion 
of  labour  and  amufements,  in  order  that  the  fpirit 
of  true  piety  may  £how  itfelf  by  ads  of  devotion. 

The  fpirit  proper  to  the  Lord's-^day  may,  there- 
fore, be  defined,  a  fpirit  of  ferioufnefs,  a  fpirit  favour- 
able to  meditation,  a  fpirit  inclining  to  private,  do- 
mcftic,  and  focial  worfliip  5  a  fpirit  propitious  to  the 
receiving  and  communicating  of  religious  inftrudlion  ^ 
a  fpirit  of  the  warmefl  gratitude  for  the  great  falva- 
tion  revealed  in  the  gofpel.  This  is  the  true  chriftian 
fpirit ;  and  with  this,  every  one  fhould  be  filled,  who 
feels  himfelf  under  any  obligations  to  God  j  or  enter- 
tains a  proper  refped  for  the  Saviour. 

But  as  the  operation  of  the  fpirit  will,  in  the  bell 
manner,  illuftrate  the  nature  of  it,  I  will  endeavour 
to  fiiow  what  proofs  it  will  give  of  its  real  exiftence 
on  the  Lord's-day.,  And,  if  a  man  be  in  the  fpirit 
on  that  holy  day,  he  will  remember  the  fpecial  de- 
fign  of  it,  and  will  keep  it  holy.  He  will  confcien- 
tioufly  abftain  from  buiinefs,  and  from  recreations, 
which  are  lawful  at  all  other  times.  This,  I  fliould 
imagine,  any  good  citizen  would  do  from  thofe  prin- 
ciples which  conftitute  a  good  citizen,  namely,  a 
zeal  for  public  order,  and  a  reverence  for  the  laws  of 

fockty. 


SeRM.  XVIII.]  THE    LORD's-DAY.  ftll 

foclety.  Surely,  it  is  no  light  offence  to  tranfgrefs 
the  laws  of  man,  when  thofe  laws  are  the  voice  of 
the  people,  cxpreffcd  by  perfons  of  their  own  ap- 
pointment. In  other  cafes,  the  force  of  this  argu- 
ment would  be  admitted  :  why  not,  then,  where 
morality  and  religion  are  concerned  ? 

Political  confiderations  are  not,  however,  thofe 
t-o  which  I  would  call  your  attention.  A  fpirit  of 
true  piety  is  the  fpring  of  action  now  under  exam- 
ination. And  I  repeat  it,  they  who  are  in  this  fpirit, 
will  not  confume  the  Lord's-day  in  idlenefs  ;  will  not 
profane  it  by  riotous  pleafures  ;  will  not  give  it  to 
company  ;  will  not  devote  it  to  bufmefs  of  any  kind, 
even  to  fuch  as  may  be  tranfafted  within  their  own 
walls.  To  be  in  the  fpirit,  is  to  have  a  confcience  in 
religious  concerns ;  and  to  be  reftrained  by  princi- 
ple from  fuch  abufes  as  I  have  now  mentioned.  One 
proof,  therefore,  that  the  fpirit  of  piety  is  in  exercifc, 
is  a  refervation  of  the  Lord's-day  as  a  feafon  of  reft. 

But  this  is  not  all :  a  man  who  poffeifes  the  true 
fpirit  of  his  religion,  will  employ  a  portion  of  facred 
time  in  the  private  offices  of  devotion,  in  confulting 
the  volume  of  infpiration,  in  perufing  fuch  works 
as  unfold  the  principles,  enforce  the  duties,  or  con- 
firm the  evidence  of  Chriftianity.  The  fabbath  pre- 
fenting  a  favourable  opportunity  for  reading,  medi- 
tation, and  inquiry,  it  will  be  mofl  welcome  to  thofe, 
who  do  not  feel  too  wife  to  learn,  nor  too  good  to 
need  any  further  improvement.  They,  who  are  con- 
fcious  of  the  imperfection  of  their  character,  will 
avail  themfelves  of  fuch  a  feafon  for  gaining  religious 
knowledge  ;  and  will  think  no  time  better  fpent  than 
that  which  is  confecrated  to  facred  ftudies. 

If,  then,  you  are  in  the  fpirit  on  the  Lord*s-day, 
you  will  referve  a  part  of  that  day  for  confulting  the 

word 


51  Hi  OBSERVATION    OF  [SeRM.  XVII|, 

word  of  God,  in  order  that  you  may  revive  fe-. 
rious  impreffions  ;  and  that  you  may  be  excited 
to  every  good  work.  Earneftly  deilrous  to  increafe 
in  the  knowledge,  fear,  and  love  of  God,  your 
reading  will  be  conducive  to  this  very  important 
objeft  :  it  will  be  ferious  and  improving.  You  will 
alfo  compare  your  principles  and  adions,  with  thofe 
which  have  the  fandion  of  the  gofpel.  And  under 
the  influence  of  a  chriftian  fpirit,  you  will  privately 
repair  to  him,  who  giveth  to  all  men  liberally  ;  and 
you  will  afk  of  him  a  bleffing  on  your  fincere  endeav- 
ours to  know  and  perform  your  duty.  The  fpirit 
proper  to  the  Lord*s-day  will  certainly  excite  the 
good  delires,  and  did:ate  thofe  religious  exercifes, 
which  I  have  now  defcribed.  Like  any  other  caufe 
and  effecl,  they  are  neceffarily  conne(5led. 
'  FuRTHiiRT-r-The  fabbath  is  a  favourable  feafon,  not 
only  for  acquiring,  but  communicating  knowledge. 
They  who  have  a  houfehold  to  fuperintend,  ought, 
therefore,  to  referve  fome  time  for  the  peculiar  duties 
of  their  ftation.  He,  who  is  in  the  fpirit  on  the 
Lord's-day,  will  make  this  refervation.  He  will  em* 
brace  fo  inviting  an  opportunity  to  inftruct  thofe 
whom  God  has  committed  to  his  care  ;  and  who 
look  up  to  him  for  inftru6lion  and  example.  Agree* 
ably  to  his  folemn  engagements,  he  will  bring  them 
up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  j 
will  acquaint  them  with  the  character  of  their  maker, 
with  the  favours  received  from  him,  and  the  duties 
which  they  owe  him  ;  will  introduce  them  to  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  ;  will  explain  his  precepts,  and 
propofe  his  example .;  will  defcribe  his  fufferings,  and 
enumerate  the  blellings  derived  from  his  mediation  ; 
ia  a  word,  he  will  admonifh,  exhort,  encourage,  and 
^itiploy  every  saeafure  which  religion  will  fanction, 

for 


SeRM.  XVIII.3  THE    LORp's-DAYv    .  filj 

for  their  moral  improvement.  In  this  facred  place, 
many  have  called  God  to  witnefs,  that  they  would 
^ft  this  faithful  and  benevolent  part  towards  thofe 
whom  he  had  given  them.  Oo.  the  Lord's-day,  this 
promife  fliould  recur  to  their  minds.  Compaffion  to 
their  houfehold  Ihould  enforce  it.  Nor  will  their 
duty  be  a  burden,  if  they  have  the  fpirit  of  religion. 
That  moft  excellent  fpirit  will  enable  them  to  draw 
the  higheft  pleafure  from  their  honourable  labours  to 
difFufe  chriftian  knowledge  ;  and  they  will  experience 
no  greater  joy,  than  vv^hen  teaching  the  fublime  art 
of  growing  in  favour  both  with  God  and  man. 

The  operations  of  that  fpirit,  in  which  we  (hould 
all  be  on  the  Lord's-day,  are  not,  however,  confined 
to  the  bofom  or  the  family  of  a  good  man.  As  that 
day  is  fet  apart  for  public  worfhip,  and  public  in- 
ftru«^ion,  the  fpirit  proper  to  it,  will  manifeft  itfelf 
in  the  houfe  of  God.  He,  who  is  led  by  it,  will  be 
conducted  to  the  fanciuary  ;  and  the  man,  who  is 
filled  with  it,  will  aiTift  in  its  awful  folemmities.  The 
fpirit,  becoming  the  chriftian  fabbath,  will  reprefs  all 
wandering's  of  the  mind  ;  will  exclude  all  vain 
thoughts ;  and  will  render  prayer,  confeflicn,  and 
praife,  the  work,  not  of  the  perfon  officiating  only, 
but  of  all  who  are  infpired  with  it.  It  will  make 
that  a  focial  aci,  which  is  too  generally  viewed  in  a 
different  light.  There  cannot  be  a  greater,  though^ 
I  fear,  there  is  not  a  more  prevailing  miftake,  than 
that  the  prayers,  uttered  from  this  place,  are  the 
work  of  the  minifter,  not  of  the  congregation.  My 
friends,  we  affemble  in  this  place  for  focial  wor- 
flijp  ;  to  render  our  united  homage  to  the  Moft 
High  ;  to  perform  an  ad  of  religion,  not  in  our  in- 
dividual capacity,  but  as  a  fpiritual  body.  Whoever 
reflects,  will  perceive,  that  this  is  the  deiign  of  our 

ftated 


SI4  OBSERVATION   OF  [SeRM.  XVIII. 

ftated  vifits  to  the  houfe  of  prayer.  If,  then,  we 
have  the  true  fpirit  of  prayer,  we  fliall  all  bear  our 
part  in  it.  We  Ihall  not  merely  attend  to  the  peti- 
tions offered ;  but  they  will  be  our  petitions.  Though, 
to  avoid  confufion,  the  voice  be  one,  yet  the  praifes 
and  thankfgivings  will  be  thofe  of  many.  In  every 
office  of  devotion,  the  fpirit  becoming  this  day,  and 
this  place,  will  produce  one  heart  and  one  foul. 

Finally — To  be  in  that  peculiar  ftate  of  mind, 
which  has  been  defcribed  in  this  difcourfe,  is  to  be 
difpofed  to  hear,  with  attention,  the  truths  and 
counfels  of  religion,  the  public  difpenfation  of  which 
is  one  of  the  duties  affigned  to  the  Lord*s-day. — 
They,  who  have  the  true  fpirit  of  Chriftians,  will  be 
fwift  to  hear,  flow  to  condemn,  and  impartial  to  ap- 
ply. They  will  not  repair  to  the  houfe  of  God,  as 
they  would  go  to  a  theatre  ;  to  be  entertained  for 
the  moment  ;  to  obferve  the  peculiar  manner  of  the 
performer,  and  to  have  an  opportunity  to  criticife. 
Views  and  expectations  of  fo  inferior  a  nature,  will 
never  enter  their  minds,  who  are  in  the  fpirit  ;  and 
who  know  the  value  of  facred  time.  They  will 
vilit  the  temple  of  the  great  God,  not  as  fpeclators, 
but  as  worfhippers  ;  not  to  obferve  how  a  difcourfe 
is  delivered,  but  what  doctrine  it  explains,  or  what 
duty  it  inculcates  ;  not  for  temporary  entertain- 
ment, but  for  real  and  lafting  improvement.  Any 
peculiarity  of  voice  or  gefture,  or  any  deficiency  in 
the  graces  of  elocution,  will  be  eafily  excufed  by 
thofe,  whofe  great  concern  it  is,  to  be  encouraged, 
reproved,  and  inftrufted  in  righteoufnefs.  Their 
minds  will  be  open  only  to  ferious  impreffions.  And 
the  conviftion,  that  fomething  ufeful  may  be  derived 
from  the  word  of  exhortation,  will  always  excite  an 
attention,  and  a  ferioufnefs,  becoming  the  houfe  of 

God; 


SeRM.  XVIIIO  THB   LORD's-DAY.  21^ 

God  ;    and  indifpenfable  in  thofe,  who  profefs  to 
worfhip  in  fpirit  and  in  truth. 

The  privilege  of  the  Lord*s-day,  and  the  fpirit 
becoming  that  day,  have,  I  prefume,  been  fufficiently 
explained  to  (how  the  value  of  the  one,  and  the  im- 
portance of  the  other.  In  what  degree  we  pollefs 
the  fpirit  of  devotion,  is  a  point  not  to  be  overlook- 
ed, nor  even  to  be  difmiflcd,  with  a  flight  exami- 
nation. Do  we  anticipate  the  Lord's-day  with  un- 
feigned pleafure  ?  Do  we,  not  from  mere  policy,  but 
from  principle,  abftain  from  labour,  and  vain  amufe- 
ments  ?  Do  we  have  the  fabbath  to  ourfelves,  ex- 
cufing  ourfelves  from  thofe  focial  entertainments, 
which  our  circumftances  might  fupport  ;  and  which 
our  ftation  in  fociety  may  feem  to  require  ?  Do  we 
religioufly  perform  thofe  afts  of  devotion,  which 
become  a  well-ordered  family  ?  Do  v/e  endeavour 
to  revive  old  impreflions,  and  to  gain  new  inform- 
ation from  the  infpired  volume  j  and  are  we  as  care- 
ful to  communicate,  as  to  acquire  the  knowledge  of 
our  duty  ?  The  pfalmift  exclaims,  "  I  was  glad,  when 
they  faid  unto  me,  let  us  go  to  the  houfe  of  the 
Lord."  Did  we  ever  experience  the  exultation  of 
mind,  which  produced  this  declaration  ?  Do  we, 
when  in  this  place,  feel  as  though  we  were  in  the 
prefence  of  the  eternal  God  ;  and  do  we  unfeignedly 
unite  in  the  prayers  and  fupplications,  interceffions 
and  praifes,  which  are  addrelTed  to  the  Deity  ?  Do 
we  feel  as  though  we  were  honouring  God,  and  im- 
ploring his  favour  ?  Are  we  attentive  to  the  word 
preached,  as  a  leffon  of  facred  inftruclion,  which  is  to 
be  treafured  up  in  our  hearts  j  which  is  to  be  review- 
ed, when  we  return  to  our  refpeclive  homes  j  and 
which  is  to  make  us  wifer  and  better  through  life  ? 
Applying  thefe  queries  to  this  very  day,  can  we  an- 

fwcr 


21^  DUTY   TO    i>RAY  [[SeRM.  Xl^. 

fwer  them  in  the  affirmative  ?  Does  the  review  of 
this  day,  the  manner  in  which  it  has  been  fpent,  the 
courfe  of  our  reading  and  converfation,  and  the  em- 
ployment of  our  thoughts  during  divine  fervice,  give 
us  pleafure  or  pain  ?  I  prefume,  we  muft  all  be  dif- 
fatisfied  with  ourfelves,  when  we  compare  our  con- 
du6fc  and  our  duty. 

As  we  muft  anfwer  at  the  bar  of  God  for  all  our 
privileges,  let  it  be  our  concern,  that  the  Lord's-day, 
that  moft  valuable  privilege,  be  not  profaned  or  neg- 
lected. By  ferious  meditation,  let  the  true  fpirit  of 
that  day  be  awakened  in  our  bofoms  :  then  will  the 
fancluary  be  frequented  ;  and  the  fervices  of  it  be 
cheerfully  attended.  "  Whatever  we  do,  we  fhall  do 
heartily,  as  unto  the  Lord,  and  not  unto  men.**  A 
rational  and  fervent  devotion  will  unite  with  juftice 
and  benevolence  to  adorn  our  charafter  :  and  we 
fhall  be  prepared  for  that  everlafting  fabbath,  which 
remaineth  for  the  people  of  God. 


)ennon  xix. 


Duty  of  the  Afflifled  to  pray. 
James  v.  13. 

**  IS  ANY  AMONG  YOU   AFFLICTED  ?    LET  HIM   PRAY." 

THAT  the  gofpel  fuits  its  inftrucflions  to  every 
condition  and  circumftance  of  human  life,  i3 
one  of  its  higheft  recommendations.  Whether  a 
man  be  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  in  profperity  or 

adverfitv. 


SeRM.  XIX.]  IN    AFFLICTION,  217 

adverfity,  he  may  find  his  duty  clearly  revealed  in 
the  facred  pages.  In  particular,  does  the  gofpel  fur- 
nifh  confolation  to  the  children  of  diftrefs  ;  and 
point  out  the  meafures  which  are  to  be  taken,  when 
the  burden  of  affliction  preffes  with  uncommon 
weight.  To  raife  our  fpirits,  it  reveals  a  bleffed  im- 
mortality ;  and  to  employ  our  thoughts,  it  fets  be- 
fore us  a  God,  and  an  over-ruling  providence  ;  and 
direds  us  to  maintain  an  intercourfe  with  him  in 
the  duty  of  prayer.  Such  is  the  falutary  and  ex- 
cellent counfel,  which  we  find  in  the  text.  "  Is  any 
among  you  afflided  ?  let  him  pray.**  Thefe  are  the 
words  of  James  :  and  they  were  addrefled  to  the 
chriftian  world,  at  a  time,  when  the  religion  of  Jefus 
laboured  under  great  difcouragements  ;  and  when, 
of  all  men,  his  difciples  were  the  moft  miferable. 

My  defign,  in  the  following  difcourfe,  is  to  con- 
fi.der  the  exhortation  in  the  text  j  and  to  fliow  the 
advantages  of  obferving  it,  as  an  invariable  rule,  in 
all  feafons  of  adverfity. 

First — Are  any  among  you  afflided  ?  Perhaps 
this  quefi:ion  could  at  no  time  be  propofed,  when 
fome  might  not,  and  with  great  truth,  anfwer  in  the 
affirmative.  Even  in  feafons  of  general  profperity, 
there  are  individuals,  whofe  hearts  are  in  heavinefs. 
Many  afflictions  are  of  fuch  a  nature,  that  it  would 
be  neither  policy  nor  wifdom  to  expofe  them  to  the 
world.  Many  of  our  cares  and  perplexities  could 
not  be  revealed,  without  increafing  the  evil.  And 
there  are  many  others,  which  ought  to  be  veiled 
from  the  public  eye,  becaufe  they  do  not  concern  fo- 
ciety ;  and  becaufe,  if  known,  they  might  provoke 
the  contempt  of  the  World,  rather  than  its  compaf- 
fion.  We  are  not,  therefore,  to  fuppofe,  that  thofe 
only  are  miferable,  who  openly  complain.  There  are 
D  d  many 


2l8  DUTY    TO    PRAY  [SeRM.  XIX. 

many  fons  and  daughters  of  affliction,  who  pafs 
through  life  unknown  and  unpitied.  And  their  for- 
rows  are  not  the  lefs  real,  for  being  confined  to  their 
own  bofoms. 

Our  Saviour  has  faid,  "  in  this  world,  ye  fhall 
have  tribulation."  Nor  did  his  facred  lips  ever  utter 
a  more  juft  remark.  His  own  difciples  had  their  pe- 
culiar troubles.  And  mankind,  univerfally,  have 
their  vexations  and  trials.  Something  occurs  in  the 
life  of  every  man,  to  fliow  him,  that  this  is  a  ftate  of 
difcipline,  not  of  enjoyment.  The  unkindneffes  re- 
ceived from  the  world,  the  lofs  of  fubftance,  the  lofs 
of  health,  and  the  lofs  of  friends,  bear  an  invariable 
teftimony  to  this  truth.  And  if  to  thefe  private 
evils,  we  add  the  public  calamities,  to  which  all  na- 
tions are  liable,  we  cannot  doubt  the  vanity  and  im- 
perfedion  of  the  prefent  ftate.  Every  day  furnilhes 
new  proofs,  that  pure  and  uninterrupted  happinefs, 
in  this  world,  is  not  the  appointment  of  God.  So  far 
from  it,  days  of  profperity  and  adverlity  are  the  di- 
vine allotment.  And  God  has  fet  the  one  over 
againft  the  other,  in  order  that  the  moral  ends  of  our 
creation  may  be  fecured. 

What  proportion  the  miferies  of  life  bear  to  its 
blefflngs,  I  would  not  undertake  to  determine.  Some 
have  infifted,  that  the  balance  is  in  favour  of  good. 
And  others  maintain,  that  taking  mankind  at  large, 
they  fuiFer  more  than  they  enjoy.  The  experience 
of  every  one  muft,  in  this  cafe,  guide  his  decifions. 
Leaving  out  thofe  evils,  which  we  fooliflily,  unnecef- 
farily,  and  perverfely  bring  on  ourfelves,  we  can  have 
no  doubt,  that  thofe,  which  remain,  are  few  in  num- 
ber, compared  with  our  bleffings.  In  judging  of  the 
divine  allotments,  we  ought  not,  therefore,  to  take 
into  the  account,  the  fruits  of  our  own  folly.     And 

making 


SeRM.  XIX.]  IN    AFFLICTION.  2 1 9 

making  this  deduction,  we  fliall.  not  hefitate  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  "  the  Lord  is  good  to  all ;  and  that 
his  tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works/' 

But  as  there  are  troubles,  which  are  unavoidable  ; 
and  which  take  place  in  confequence  of  the  general 
laws,  by  which  the  world  is  governed,  I  proceed  to 
inquire,  fecondly,  how  we  are  to  conduct,  when  vifit- 
cd  with  thofe  troubles.  And  the  counfel  of  the 
apoftle  is,  that,  when  afflided,  we  fhould  devoutly 
and  earneftly  pray.  The  great  God  is  the  difpofer  of 
all  events.  Though  invihble,  he  is  univerfally  pref- 
cnt.  And  thousrh  we  do  not  difcern  the  hand  which 
chaftens,  yet  we  can  have  no  doubt  of  his  agency,  as 
well  in  the  judgments  inflided  on  us,  as  in  bleffings 
beftowed.  In  the  lacred  fcriptures,  God  aflerts 
his  agency,  in  the  diftribution  of  that  good  and  evil, 
which  exift  in  the  world.  "  I  form  the  light,  and  I 
create  darknefs,"  is  his  own  exalted  language.  And 
it  may  be  obferved,  that  in  their  moft  intenfe  fuffer- 
ings,  the  good  men,  whofe  afflidions  are  recorded  in 
the  facred  volume,  acknowledge  the  providence  of 
God. 

To  him,  therefore,  our  prayers  fhould  be  addrefled 
in  feafons  of  adverfity.  We  fhould  repair  to  him, 
as  the  righteous  governor  of  the  world.  And  we 
fliould  approach  him  with  a  perfect  confidence  in 
his  difpofition  to  hear,  and  his  ability  to  afford  us 
relief.  In  the  name,  and  through  the  mediation  of 
Chrift,  we  fliould  offer  up  our  fupplications.  And 
having  exprefled  our  defires  with  a  becoming  mod- 
efty,  we  fliould  commit  ourfelves  to  the  fupreme  dif- 
pofer of  all  things,  either  to  continue,  to  mitigate, 
or  to  remove  our  forrows,  as  his  own  infinite  wif- 
dom  ftiall  direct.  This  is  the  indifpenfable  duty  of 
all,  who  are  in  affliction.    This  is  alfo  their  privilege. 

Nor 


220  DUTY  TO  PRAY  [SerM.  XIX. 

Nor  is  it  poffible  to  defcribe  the  lofs  which  they  fuf- 
tain,  who,  when  afflicled,  negled  the  offices  of  devo- 
tion, and  refufe  its  comforts. 

But  it  may  be  of  importance  to  determine,  for 
what  particular  mercies  we  ought  to  pray,  when  in 
circumftances  of  diftrefs.  And  it  appears  to  me, 
that  of  whatever  nature  our  troubles  may  be,  it  i3 
perfectly  juftifiable  to  pray  for  relief.  If  on  the  bed 
of  iicknefs,  we  may  pray  for  health  :  if  tortured 
with  pains,  me  may  pray  for  eafe  :  if  diftrelTed  with 
want,  we  may  pray  for  all  needful  fupplies  :  if  in  | 
perfonal  danger,  we  may  pray  for  proted:ion  :  if  our  ' 
mifery  arifes  from  the  ill  ufage  of  the  world,  we 
may  pray  for  juftice :  if  threatened  with  the  lofs  of 
any  near  relatives  or  friends,  we  may  pray  for  the 
continuance  of  their  lives  :  and  if  actually  viiited 
with  this  calamity,  we  may  pray  that  the  painful  re- 
membrance of  our  lofs  may  be  effaced  ;  that  all  tears 
may  be  wiped  from  our  eyes  ;.  that  our  mourn- 
ing may  be  turned  into  joy  j  and  our  complaints  to 
praife.  That  we  are  authorifed  to  addrcfs  God  in  this 
flrain,  and  earneftly  to  implore  the  removal  of  our 
troubles,  are  points  which  cannot  be  difputed.  The 
propriety  of  fuch  requefts  may  be  inferred  from  the 
delires,  which  God  has  implanted  in  us.  When  the 
clouds  of  adverfity  gather  over  us,  it  is  impoffible  not 
to  wifh  to  fee  them  difperfed.  When  preffed  down 
with  aiHiction,  it  is  impoffible  not  to  delirc  that  the 
burden  fliould  be  removed.  An  averiion  to  evil, 
and  the  love  of  happineis,  are  an  original  part  of  our 
conftitution.  Nature,  therefore,  teaches  us,  in  times 
of  diftrefs,  to  pray  for  a  period  to  our  miferies. 

Nor.  are  the  dictates  of  nature  contradicted  by  the 
voice  of  divine  revelation.  When  afflided,  we  are 
pot  merely  permitted,  but  exprefsly  commanded,  to 

pray. 


Serm.XIX.3  in  affliction.  221 

pray.  And  in  feme  of  the  beft  chara(n:ers5  which  are 
propofed  to  our  imitation,  v/e  have  examples  of  fuch 
particular  requefts  as  we  are  now  confidering.  Our 
bleffed  Saviour  had  fuch  apprehenlions  of  a  cruel  and 
infamous  death,  that  he  prayed,  if  poilible,  that  the 
cup  might  pafs  from  him.  The  apoftle  Paul  intreated 
the  Lord  thrice,  that  he  might  be  delivered  from  the 
thorn  in  his  flefli.  What  particular  evil  he  meant  by 
this  expreflion,  we  are  unable  to  determine  :  but  we 
know  that  it  was  fomething  which  greatly  mortified 
him.  David  prayed  for  the  life  of  a  beloved  child. 
And  good  Hezekiah  prayed,  that  his  days  might  not 
come  to  a  clofe,  at  the  time  predided  by  the  man  of 
God. 

Are  any  among  you  afflicted  ?  according  to  the 
nature  of  your  affliction,  you  may  frame  your  re- 
quefts. Have  you  met  with  lolTes  and  difappointments 
in  your  worldly  concerns  ?  you  may  afk  of  him,  who 
giveth  to  all  liberally,  that  your  loffes  may  be  fo  far 
repaired,  as  to  raife  you  above  a  ftate  of  abject  de- 
pendence. Are  your  enjoyments  difturbed  by  bodi- 
ly pains ;  and  your  fears  alarmed  by  the  apprehen- 
fions  of  death  ?  you  are  at  liberty  to  prefer  the  peti- 
tion of  the  pfalmift :  "  O  fpare  me,  that  I  may  re- 
cover ftrength,  before  I  go  hence,  and  be  no  more." 
Are  you  anxious  for  your  country,  you  may 
pray  for  its  falvation.  Do  your  tears  flow  for  the 
lofs  of  fome  obje6l,  from  whom  you  are  feparated 
by  the  ftroke  of  death  ?  religion  does  not  prohibit 
the  fervent  prayer,  that  the  wound  may  be  clofed  ; 
and  that  you  may  recover  that  tranquillity  of  mind, 
which  is  necelTary,  as  well  for  a  proper  difcharge  of 
the  duties,  as  for  the  enjoyment  of  life.  Comforts 
and  bleffings,  which  we  may  innocently  delire,  we 
may  lawfully  alk. 

But, 


222.  DUTY    TO    PRAY  [SeRM.  XIX. 

But,  fccondly,  In  affliftion  we  fhould  pray,  that,  if 
our  forrows  be  neither  mitigated  nor  removed,  we 
may  bear  them  with  a  proper  temper.  In  his  wife 
and  holy  providence,  God  may  not  fee  fit  to  grant 
that  immediate  relief,  which  we  have  earneftly  fuppli- 
cated.  To  his  infinite  wifdom,  it  may  appear  expe- 
dient, that  our  fufferings  fhould  continue.  Though 
we  cannot,  yet  he  may  perceive,  that  our  fubjeclion 
to  adverfity  will  be  the  means  of  exalting  our  vir- 
tues ;  and  making  us,  in  all  refpecls,  wifer  and  better. 
There  are  fecrets  in  the  divine  government,  which 
the  very  angels  defire  to  look  into.  And  as  to  the 
meafures  of  his  providence  towards  the  human  kind, 
it  is  impolTible  that  minds  fo  feeble  as  ours,  fhould 
difcern  all  the  great  and  benevolent  ends,  to  which 
they  are  fubfervient. 

Our  prayers,  therefore,  fliould  be  accommodated 
to  this  flate  of  darknefs  and  uncertainty.  With  un- 
feigned confidence  in  the  divine  wifdom,  we  fhould 
intreat  the  fupreme  difpofer  of  all  events  to  fupport 
us  under  our  fufferings  ;  and  to  enable  us  to  bear 
them  with  patience.  We  fhould  afk  of  God,  to  pre- 
ferve  us  from  all  hard  thoughts,  both  of  his  character 
and  his  government.  And  we  fhould  moft  fervently 
pray,  that  whatever  evils  we  may  endure,  we  may 
never  be  tempted  to  charge  him  foolifhly  ;  or  even 
to  fufped  the  righteoufnefs  of  his  adminiftrations. 
Blind,  ignorant,  and  unworthy,  fhall  we  prefume  to 
fay,  "  What  doeft  thou  ?    or  why  doeft  thou  thus  ?" 

To  deprecate  impatience,  and  to  requeft  a  humble 
and  refigned  temper  of  mind,  are,  therefore,  indif- 
penfable  duties  in  time  of  afHiclion.  On  the  bed  of 
ficknefs,  we  fliould  pray  that  our  fpirits  may  not 
fmk,  nor  our  patience  be  exhaufled.  Difappointed 
in  our  worldly  projects,  and  reduced  by  loffes,  we 

fhouM 


SeRM.  XIX.]  IN    AFFLICTION.  2^3 

£hould  pray  that  God  would  preferve  us  from  dif- 
content  with  his  allotments,  from  an  envious  and 
malicious  temper  towards  thofe,  who  have  not  met 
with  our  misfortunes  *,  and  from  all  unlawful  mea- 
fures  to  retrieve  our  circumftances.  Mifreprefented, 
defamed,  or  otherwife  injured  by  our  fellow-men, 
we  fhould  pray,  that  if  we  cannot  obtain  rcdrefs,  we 
may  abftain  from  revenge.  And  when  deprived  of 
our  earthly  connexions,  if  we  cannot  forget  the  lofs, 
we  fliould  pray  that  we  may  bear  it  with  that  great- 
nefs  of  mind,  which  Chriftianity  recommends.  Such 
addreffes  to  the  fupreme  majefty  of  heaven  and  earth, 
become  both  our  religious  charadler  and  our  flation. 
They  difcover  a  proper  fenfe  of  our  wants  ;  and  they 
exprefs  a  pious  confidence  in  his  wifdom  and  benevo- 
lence, who  orders  all  events,  whether  merciful  or 
afilidive. 

The  divine  author  of  our  religion  was  a  pattern 
of  patience  and  refignation.  He  prayed,  that  if  pof^ 
iible,  the  cup  might  pafs  from  him  ;  but  he  immedi- 
ately added,  "  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  And 
with  the  fame  relignation  to  the  will  of  God,  fliould 
we  fupplicate  relief.  To  our  prayers,  we  fhould  al- 
ways fubjoin  our  confent,  that  God  fhould  difpofe 
of  us  according  to  his  pleafure  :  for  we  muft  be  per- 
fuaded,  that  infinite  wifdom  cannot  err  j  and  that 
infinite  goodnefs  cannot  do  wrong. 

Thirdly — In  afilidion,  we  fhould  pray,  not 
merely  that  our  forrows  may  be  endured  with  pa- 
tience, but  that  they  may  bring  forth  in  us  the  peace- 
able fruits  of  righteoufnefs.  It  is  moft  certain,  that 
God  afilids  us  for  wife  and  good  ends.  He  always 
acls  with  defign  :  and  his  defigns,  in  the  judgments 
brought  on  his  creatures,  are  worthy  of  his  infinite 
benevolence.     Hence  we  read,  "  for  whom  the  Lord 

loveth. 


S24  DUTY    TO    PRAY  [SeRM.  XIX. 

lovethjhe  chafteneth  ;  and  fcourgeth  every  fon  whom 
he  receiveth."  And  again  :  "  We  have  had  fathers 
of  the  flefh,  which  corrected  us,  and  we  gave  them 
reverence  ;  fliall  we  not  much  rather  be  in  fubjedion 
to  the  father  of  fpirits,  and  live  ?  For  they  verily, 
for  a  few  days,  chaftened  us  for  their  pleafure  ;  but 
he  for  our  profit,  that  we  might  be  partakers  of  his 
holinefs."  God  is  our  father  :  and  it  is  his  benevo- 
lent intention  to  form  us  to  the  character  of  obedi- 
ent children.  Sometimes,  mercies,  and  at  other 
times,  judgments,  are  therefore  employed  to  accom* 
plifh  this  objeft. 

For  thefe  reafons,  we  fliould  fervently  pray,  in 
time  of  affliction,  that  our  troubles  may  be  the  means 
of  our  fpiritual  improvement.  We  fhould  pray,  that 
our  pains  of  body,  and  perplexities  of  mind,  might 
wean  us  from  this  world  ;  and  excite  us  to  look  for 
a  better.  We  Ihould  pray,  that  the  lofs  of  our 
worldly  fubftance  might  lead  us  to  withdraw  our 
confidence  from  all  earthly  treafures  ;  and  to  fix  our 
hopes  on  a  more  durable  inheritance.  And  we 
fhould  pray,  that  the  death  of  our  friends  might 
difpofe  us  to  reflect  on  our  own  mortality  ;  and  to 
prepare  for  it  by  a  life  of  fobriety,  righteoufnefs,  and 
piety.  As  we  muft  die  ;  and  as  God  only  knows 
how  foon  our  change  may  take  place,  we  cannot  be 
too  earnefi:  in  our  fupplications,  that  the  removal  of 
our  friends  may  lead  us  to  number  our  days  aright, 
and  to  apply  our  hearts  to  wifdom. 

We  have  many  faults  to  be  corre<^ed  ;  and  there 
are  many  virtues,  after  which  we  ought  to  afpire. 
But  affliflion,  however  ingrateful  for  the  prefent, 
may  be  bleft  to  both  thefe  purpofes.  It  may  cure  us 
of  an  immoderate  attachment  to  our  friends,  to  our 
honours,  to  our  treafures,  to  the  enjoyments  of  this 

Hate, 


Serm.XIX.]  in  affliction.  225 

ftate,  and  even  to  life  itfelf.  And  it  may  ftrengthen 
our  confidence  in  the  over-ruling  providence  of  God  ^ 
give  firmnefs  to  our  minds  5  inflame  our  zeal ;  and 
increafe  our  defires  of  uninterrupted  and  eternal  fe- 
licity. There  is,  therefore,  fufEcient  ground  to  afk 
of  God  thefe  fpiritual  bleflings.  The  diftrelTes  of  life, 
having  a  natural  tendency  to  redify  our  diforders, 
and  to  improve  our  virtues,  we  ought,  in  juftice  to 
ourfelves,  to  make  thefe  things  the  fubject  of  our  re- 
queft. 

Finally — Are  any  afflifted,  they  fhould  pray,  that 
In  proportion  to  their  fufFerings  here,  may  be  their 
glory  and  blelTednefs  hereafter.  The  apoftle  affures 
us,  that  the  fufFerings  of  this  prefent  ftate  are  not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  fhall  be 
revealed.  And  he  expreffes  the  utmoft  confidence, 
that  men,  who  have  met  with  uncommon  trials  in 
this  world,  and  have  endured  them  with  patience 
and  fortitude,  will  receive  their  compenfation  in  "  a 
far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

We  are,  then,  authorized  to  pray,  that  our  trou- 
bles may  have  this  glorious  and  happy  termination. 
Having  received  our  evil  things  here,  we  may  afk  for 
thofe  good  things  which  are  to  come.  And  having 
experienced  great  tribulation,  and  wafhed  our  robes, 
and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  we 
may  pray,  that  an  entrance  may  be  m.Iniftered  to  us 
abundantly  into  the  everlafting  kingdom  of  Chrift  ; 
and  that  an  exalted  place,  at  his  right  hand,  may 
crown  our  labours  and  trials.  So  w^ill  the  words  of 
the  apoftle  be  divinely  verified  in  our  future  condi- 
tion :  "  BlefTed  is  the  man  that  endureth  temptation  j 
for  when  he  is  tried,  he  fhall  receive  the  crown  of 
life,  which  the  Lord  hath  promifed  to  them  that  love 
him." 

E  e  I  HAvs 


226  JBUTY   TO    PRAY  [SiRM.  XIX. 

I  HAVE  now  enumerated  the  particular  favours, 
which  we  fliould  alk  of  God  in  feafons  of  diftrefs. — 
And  with  what  gratitude  ought  we  to  reflect  on  this 
privilege  ?  What  a  favour  is  it,  to  be  permitted  to 
fpread  our  wants  before  God  ?  What  a  comfort,  to 
know  that  we  may  go  to  him  as  a  father  ?  What  a 
fupport,  to  be  aflured  that  he  is  willing  to  hear  us ; 
and  that  he  never  faid  to  the  moft  forlorn  of  the  hu- 
man fpecies,  "  feek  ye  my  face  in  vain.**  Permitted, 
and  even  invited,  by  God  himfelf,  to  repair  to  him 
in  adverfity,  let  us  avail  ourfelves  of  this  invaluable 
privilege.  Are  any,  in  this  allembly,  in  circumftan- 
ces  of  want  ?  remember,  that  the  affignment  of  our 
condition,  in  this  world,  is  the  work  of  God;  and 
that  an  application  to  him  will  not  be  rejeded.  If 
beft  for  you,  he  will  grant  relief :  if  not,  he  will  give 
you  patience.  From  prayer,  you  will  unqueftionably 
derive  either  a  temporal  or  a  fpiritual  bleffing.  Are 
any  occafionally  exercifed  with  pains  and  ficknefs  ? 
recoiled  in  whofe  hand  our  breath  is  ;  and  whofe 
prerogative  it  is,  to  kill  and  to  make  alive  ;  and  pray 
that  his  mercy  may  reftore,  or  his  grace  fupport  you. 
Are  any,  at  this  time,  lamenting  the  ravages  of  death  ? 
call  to  mind  that  fovereign  providence,  without 
which  a  fparrow  doth  not  fall  to  the  ground.  Con- 
iider  who  it  is  that  turneth  man  to  deftrudion  ;  and 
teverence  the  voice  which  utters  thefe  words  :  "  Re- 
turn, ye  children  of  men.**  It  is  a  comforting  reflec- 
tion, that  adverflty  cometh  not  from  the  dufl  ;  and 
that  forrow  fpringeth  not  from  the  ground.  And, 
as  to  the  removal  of  our  friends  by  death,  what  can 
be  more  certain  than  the  hand  of  God,  in  fo  mourn- 
ful an  event  ? 

Let  fuch,  therefore,  as  have  been   more  lately 

viflted  with  this  calamity,  call  up  to  view  its  fove- 

.    ,  reign 


SeRM.  XIX.]  IN   AFFLICflON.  227 

reigrn  author.  Confider  the  character  of  that  bein^* 
who  has  appointed  the  bounds,  which  we  cannot 
pafs.  Dare  not  to  difpute  his  right  to  diflblve  the 
neareft  connexions  of  life  ;  and  to  deftroy  the  hope 
of  man.  Refolve,  with  the  pfalmift,  to  be  dumb, 
and  to  open  not  your  mouths,  becaufe  it  is  his  doing. 
But  refrain  only  from  murmuring  and  complaints  ; 
for  in  prayer,  you  have  liberty  to  exprefs  your  defires  ; 
and  may  be  affured,  that  you  will  not  plead  in  vain# 
In  the  pathetic  language  of  David,  addrefs  yourfelyes 
to  the  great  God  :  "  Remove  thy  ftroke  from  us,  foe 
we  are  confumed  by  the  blow  of  thine  hand.  Hear 
our  prayer,  O  Lord,  and  give  ear  unto  our  cry  : 
hold  not  our  peace  at  our  tears  ;  for  we  are  ftrangers 
with  thee,  and  fojourners,  as  all  our  fathers  were.** 
Imitate  the  piety,  the  benevolence,  and  the  pure  and 
undefiled  religion,  which  adorned  the  perfon,  whofe 
death  you  now  regret.  And  to  your  prayers,  unite 
your  endeavours  to  be  "  followers  of  thofe,  who, 
through  faith  and  patience,  inherit  the  promifes." 
As  an  inexhauftible  fource  of  confolation,  reflect  on 
the  joys  and  honours  of  the  heavenly  ftate.  And 
apply  to  yourfelves  thofe  words  of  our  glorious  Re- 
deemer :  "  Be  of  good  cheer  j  I  have  overcome  the 
world." 


>mnow 


ft»i  ON   CANDOUR.  [SeRM.  XX. 


ttmon  XX. 


On  Candour. 


»*fe»®>«»<Mii 


Romans  xiv.  4. 

*'  WHO  ART  THOU  THAT  JUDGEST  ANOTHER  MAN*S 
SERVANT  ?  TO  HIS  OWN  MASTER  HE  STANDETH  OR 
FALLETH." 

THERE  is  no  fault  to  which  Chriftians  are  more 
addicted,  than  to  that,  againft  which  we  are 
cautioned  in  thefe  words.  From  the  behaviour  of 
too  many,  who  make  a  public  profeflion  of  religion, 
we  might  conclude,  that  the  Saviour  had  given  them 
powers  to  infped  and  condemn  the  behaviour  of  I 
others ;  and  that  their  duty  principally  con  lifted  in 
the  execution  of  this  office.  But  if  we  confult  the 
gofpel,  we  fhall  find,  that  nothing  is  more  frequently, 
cr  more  ftriclly  prohibited,  than  this  unrighteous 
praftice.  Our  Saviour  bears  teftimony  againft  it  in 
the  plaineft  terms.  And  with  great  propriety,  the 
apoftle  inquires,  "  who  art  thou  that  judgeft  another 
man's  fervant  ?"  adding,  that  we  are  all  refponfible  to 
Chrift,  and  muft  hereafter  ftand  or  fall  according  to  his 
fentcnce.  This  is  a  conlideration  of  infinite  moment. 
And  if  we  oftener  adverted  to  it,  we  could  not  in- 
dulge ourfelves  in  a  liberty,  fo  contrary  to  the  fpirit 
<)f  the  gofpel,  and  fo  pointedly  reproved,  both  by  the 
preaching  and  example  of  its  author. 

The  fpecial  occafion  of  the  admonition  in  the  text, 
was  a  difpute  among  the  early  Chriftians,  refpecling 
the  ufe  of  meats.     One  fuppofed,  that  he  might  eat 

all 


Serm.XX.3  <>n  candgur.  229 

all  things  :  another,  who  had  a  more  fcrupulous  con- 
fcience,  prefumed  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  eat  only 
herbs.  This  diverfity  of  fentiment  produced  very  dit 
agreeable  confequences.  The  liberal  Chriftian  look- 
ed with  contempt  on  his  weaker  brother.  V/hilft, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  latter  beheld,  with  indigna- 
tion, the  liberty  taken  by  the  former  5  and  palled 
fentence  on  his  indifcriminate  ufe  of  meats,  as  an 
offence  againft  the  gofpel.  The  apoftle  informs  them 
both,  that  they  had  miftaken  the  true  fpirit  of 
Chriftianity.  On  the  rational  believer,  he  enjoins  a 
benevolent  regard  to  the  feelings  of  others.  And  he 
cautions  the  fcrupulous  Chriftian  againft  ralh  cenfur- 
ing,  and  invading  the  province  of  one,  to  whom 
God  had  committed  the  judgment  of  the  world.  His 
words  are  thefe  :  "  Let  not  him  that  eateth,  defpife 
him  that  eateth  not  :  and  let  not  him  who  eateth 
not,  judge  him  who  eateth  :  for  God  hath  received 
him."  The  text  follows,  "  who  art  thou  that  judgeft 
another  man's  fervant  ?  to  his  own  mafter  he  ftand^ 
eth  or  falieth." 

You  perceive,  from  this  reprefentation,  that  even 
the  firft  Chriftians  were  not  free  from  religious  diii. 
putes.  And  you  cannot  but  remark,  that  even  fb 
trifling  a  circumftance,  as  the  ufe  of  meats,  has  been 
fufficient  to  difturb  the  unity  of  the  fpirit ;  and,  at 
leaft,  to  weaken  the  bands  of  love.  And  the  fame 
inconfiftencies  have  difhonoured  the  Chriftian  char-r 
after,  from  the  apoftolick  age  to  the  prefent  time, 
Chriftians  have  difputed  with  each  other  j  have  mu^ 
tually  defpifed,  hated,  and  perfecuted,  for  pointSj 
which  no  human  mind  could  comprehend  j  and 
which  no  human  authority  could  decide.  Thefe 
abufes  of  the  moft  benevolent  religion,  that  was  ever 
propofed  to  mankind,  have  been  an  unlpeakable  injury 

to 


23^  ON    CANDOUR.  [SeRM.  XX. 

to  the  caufe.  They  have  filled  the  chriftlan  world 
with  fcandals.  They  have  furniflied  weapons  to  the 
enemies  of  the  truth  :  and  they  have  rendered  the 
hiftory  of  the  church  one  of  the  moft  unpleafing  nar- 
ratives that  can  be  perufed. 

That  we  may  not  repeat  the  wounds,  which 
Chriftianlty  has  received,  I  have  made  choice  of  the 
admonition  of  the  apoftle,  as  the  fubjed:  of  this  dif- 
courfe.  And  I  fhall  endeavour,  firft,  to  explain,  and, 
fecondly,  to  enforce  it,  upon  all  who  profefs  to  wifli 
well  to  religion. 

First — The  apoftle  inquires,  who  art  thou  that 
judgeft  another  man's  fervant  ?  We  are  all  fervants 
of  Chrift  :  and  the  queftion  is,  whether  judging,  in 
all  cafes,  is  contrary  to  the  gofpel.  It  is  impoffible 
not  to  form  fome  opinion  of  our  fellow-men,  when 
w^e  infpe6l  their  actions.  To'  think  equally  well  of 
different  characters,  when  we  are  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  them,  is  not  in  the  power  of  any  dif- 
cerning  perfon.  And,  leaft  of  all,  can  we  acquit  the 
man,  whofe  whole  condudl  is  a  difavowal  of  his  pro- 
feffions.  In  thefe  cafes,  we  cannot  avoid  judging. 
Some  fentence  we  fliall  neceffarily  pafs  in  our  own 
minds.  For  which  reafon,  the  words  before  us  are 
not  to  be  taken  in  their  moft  rigid  fenfe.  To  avoid 
obfcurity,  it  may  be  expedient  to  fliow  what  is  not 
prohibited  in  the  text. 

And  we  may  be  certain,  that  there  is  nothing 
criminal  in  paying  fome  attention  to  the  anions  of 
others ;  and  forming  fome  judgment  of  their  princi- 
ples and  m.otives.  Nothing  that  is  abfolutely  un- 
avoidable, can  be  ^norally  wrong.  We  cannot  for- 
bear to  think  according  to  plain  evidence  :  we  can- 
not refift  the  teftimony  of  our  fenfes  ;  nor  can  we 
contend  with  adual  experience.     When  we  fee  men 

uniformly" 


SeRM.  XX.]  ON    CANDOUR.  23I 

uniformly  a6l  a  wicked  part  ;  when  we  detect  them 
in  diftioneft  practices  ;  when  we  are  eye-witnelTes  of 
their  immorality,  it  is  impoffible  not  to  form  an  opin- 
ion to  their  difadvantage.  We  muft  condemn  them 
in  our  hearts.  Our  opinion  we  may,  indeed,  keep 
to  ourfeives  :  but  an  unfavourable  judgment,  in  fuch 
a  cafe,  will  force  itfelf  on  the  mind. 

Further — As  we  are  not  in  duty  bound  to  think 
well  of  a  grofsly  immoral  character,  neither  are  we 
obliged  always  to  conceal  our  difapprobation.  There 
are  times,  when  every  man  of  principle  ought  to  bear 
open  teftimony  againft  wickednefs.  It  is  a  falfe  del- 
icacy to  be  filent,  when  the  honour  of  God^  the  good 
of  fociety,  or  the  credit  of  our  profeffion,  may  de- 
mand an  explanation  of  our  fentiments.  An  inde- 
pendence of  charader  ftiould  be  the  ambition  of 
every  Chriftian.  "  There  is  a  fear  of  man  that 
bringeth  a  fnare."  And  fometimes  that  fear  impofes 
filence,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  truth,  and  to  the 
diflionour  of  our  profeffion. 

Again — The  text  does  not  condemn  friendly  ad- 
monition and  reproof.  So  far  from  being  an  offence 
againft  chriftian  charity,  this  is  one  of  its  genuine 
fruits.  Even  under  the  law,  it  was  exprefsly  en- 
joined :  "Thou  flialt  not  hate  thy  brother  in  thy 
heart  ;  thou  fhalt  in  any  wife  rebuke  thy  neighbour, 
and  not  fufier  fin  upon  him.'*  And  it  is  evidently 
the  defign  of  the  gofpel,  that  Chriftians  ftiould  in- 
fpe^l  the  condu£l  of  each  other  ;  that  they  fliould 
condemn  thofe  practices,  which  injure  the  common 
caufe  J  and  admonifli  all,  who  walk  unworthily  of 
their  religious  profeffion.  This  is  an  indifpenfable 
duty.  And  we  bind  ourfeives  to  the  faithful  dif- 
charge  of  it,  as  often  as  we  commune  with  each 
other. 

Lastly 


23*  ON    CANDOUR.  [SeRM.  XX. 

Lastly — The  words  of  the  apoftle  cannot  be  in- 
terpreted as  a  prohibition  of  public  judgment.  It 
would  not  be  juft  reafoning  to  fay,  there  is  a  tribu- 
nal, before  which  we  muft-all  appear  ;  and  a  judge, 
by  whofe  fentence  we  muft  ftand  or  fall.  Where- 
fore, let  all  human  adions  be  referred  to  that  tribu- 
nal. Society  could  not  exift  upon  fuch  principles. 
There  muft  be  fuch  an  order  of  men  as  human  judges. 
They  are  the  appointment  of  God  himfelf.  And  by 
a  faithful  difcharge  of  the  duties  of  their  office,  the 
peace  of  fociety  is  maintained  ;  evil-doers  are  pun- 
ifhed  ;  and  protection  is  afforded  to  fuch  as  do  well. 
It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  the  powers,  exercifed  by 
the  judges  of  the  earth,  do  not  fall  under  the  prohi- 
bition of  the  gofpel. 

The  pradice,  reproved  by  the  apoftle,  is  evidently 
that  of  rafli  cenfuring  and  judging  ;  that  of  con- 
demning our  neighbours  without  being  properly  ac- 
quainted vsdth  circumftances  ;  of  afcribing  their  ac- 
tions to  the  worft  motives  ;  of  vilifying  them  on  ac- 
count of  their  principles  ;  and  drawing  from  them 
the  moft  unfavourable  confequences.  This  treatment 
our  Lord  experienced,  from  the  time  of  his  firft  ap- 
pearance in  public,  till  he  finiftied  his  life  on  the  crofs. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  freedoms  taken  with  his 
facred  charader.  His  words  and  aftions  were  watch- 
ed with  a  malicious  attention.  Aad  the  fcribes  and 
pharifees  never  failed  to  affign  the  worft  reafon  for 
every  doctrine  which  he  taught ;  and  every  work 
which  he  performed.  Did  he  obferve  the  laws  of 
civility  towards  publicans  and  finners,  he  was  then 
their  companion  and  friend.  Did  he  fpeak  of  his  di- 
vine million,  Ke  was  then  an  impoftor.  Did  he  ftyle 
God  his  father,  he  was  then  a  blafphemer.  Did  he 
difcourfe  on  the  fubjed  of  religious  freedom,  he  was 

then 


SeRM.  XX.]  «N    CANDOUR.  233 

then  an  enemy  to  Cefar.  Did  he  exert  his  miraculous 
power  on  any  miferable  obje<fl,  he  was  then  an  agent 
of  the  devil.  The  worft  colouring  was  given  to  ev- 
ery thing  faid  and  done  by  the  bleffed  Jefus.  Nor 
was  it  poffible,  by  the  moft  holy  and  blamelefs  man- 
ners, to  efcape  the  condemning  fentence  of  men,  fo 
malignant  and  cenforious  as  the  fcribes  and  pharifees. 
In  thefe  hypocrites,  we,  therefore,  have  a  ftriking 
view  of  the  peculiar  temper  and  pradice  condemned 
by  the  apoftle*  And  the  experience  of  fuch  iU  ufage 
might  lead  our  Saviour  to  caution  his  followers  fo 
frequently,  and  with  fo  much  earneftnefs,  againft  this 
great  tranfgreffion.  The  fubjed  is  introduced  into 
his  divine  fermou;  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged  ;  for  with  what  judgment  ye  judge,  ye  fhall 
be  judged ;  and  with  what  meafure  ye  mete,  it  fball 
be  meafured  to  you  again." 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  his  followers,  if 
they  had  profited  by  his  lelTon.  But,  fo  early  as  the 
days  of  the  apoftle,  we  perceive  Chriftians  ading  in 
oppofition  to  this  divine  rule.  The  diftindion  of 
meats,  as  I  have  already  obferved,  roufed  fome  un- 
amiable  paffions.  By  liberal  Chriftians  on  one  fide, 
and  fcrupulous  ones  on  the  other,  many  cenfures 
were  paffed,  which  could  not  be  reconciled  with  the 
meeknefs  and  mutual  forbearance,  required  by  the 
gofpel. 

And  how  far  we  are  imitators  of  their  example, 
will  readily  appear,  if  we  attend  to  the  following 
confiderations.  Firft,  it  is  rafli  and  uncharitable 
judging,  to  pronounce  any  one  criminal  for  his  pri- 
vate religious  opinions.  The  weaknefs  of  the  human 
mind  fubjeds  it  to  numberlefs  errors.  And  as  long 
as  we  continue  in  this  imperfecl  ftate,  we  fliall  have 
different  fentiments  in  regard  to  points  of  mere  fpec- 
F  f  ulation. 


23.4  ON    CANDOUR.  [SeRM.  XX. 

ulation.  We, ought,  therefore,  to  bear  with  each 
other.-  We  Ihould  remember,  that  many  opinions 
float  about  in  the  mind,  without  ever  defcendinp' 
to  the  heart,  or  having  any  influence  on  the  temper 
and  Hfe.  And  we  fliould  reflect,  how  poflible  it  is, 
that  a  change  of  circumftances  might  have  produced 
a  change  of  fentiments. 

The  admonition  in  the  text  is  addrefled,  then,  to 
thofe,  who  efteem  a  difference  of  opinion  a  fuflicient 
reafon  for  condemning  their  fellow-chriftians.  To 
fuch  uncharitable  perfons,  the  apoftle  would  fay, 
"  who  are  you,  that  take  upon  yourfelves  to  execute 
an  office,  which  belongs  only  to  the  fearcher  of 
hearts  ?  Are  you  infallible  ?  Have  you  fuch  a  per- 
fect confidence  in  your  own  underfl;andings,  as  to  be 
certain  that  all  who  differ  from  you,  differ  from  the 
gofpel  ?  Till  you  are  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  er- 
ror yourfelves,  be  careful  how  you  pafs  fentence  on 
the  miflakes  of  others.  A  better  acquaintance  with 
your  own  hearts,  would  infpire  a  more  benevolent 
fpirit ;  and  would  lead  you  to  exercife  more  forbear- 
ance towards  your  neighbours. 

Secondly — We  are  reproved  in  the  text,  not  on- 
ly when  we  condemn  others  for  their  opinions,  but 
when  we  draw  from  them  confequences,  which  they 
folemniy  difavow.  And  how  common  is  this  fpecies 
of  injuftice  ?  Becaufe  perfons  have  rejected  good 
works  as  the  meritorious  ground  of  acceptance,  how 
often  have  they  been  charged  with  encouraging  li- 
centioufnefs  ?  Becaufe  they  have  maintained  the 
moral  inability  of  man,  how  often  have  they  been 
accufed  of  fruftrating  the  laws  of  Chrift,  and  denying 
their  obligation  ?  Becaufe  the  doctrine  of  human 
depravity,  the  divine  decrees,  and  other  points  equal- 
ly myfterious,  have  been  embraced  as  evangelical 

truths. 


{ 


SerM.  XX.J  ON    CANDOUR.  £3^ 

truths,  how  unfoirly  has  the  conclufion  been  drawn, 
that  fuch  perfons  mull  have  blafphemous  ideas  of  the 
bleffed  God  ?  And,  on  the  other  hand,  becaufe 
Chriftians  have  had  different  views  of  the  moral 
powers  and  final  deftination  of  man,  of  the  divine 
government,  of  good  works,  and  the  refult  of  Chrifl*s 
mediation,  how  injurious  the  infinuation,  that  fuch 
perfons  are  infidels  in  their  hearts,  and  aim  at  the 
fubverfion  of  the  gofpel  ?  May  not  a  Chriftian  be- 
lieve, that  works  of  piety  and  virtue  are  neceffary 
as  a  qualification,  without  being  an  equivalent,  for 
eternal  happinefs  ?  May  he  not  believe  that  man  is  a 
free  agent,  without  denying  his  dependence  on  God, 
and  his  obligations  to  his  grace  ?  May  he  not  enter- 
tain the  moft  fublime  ideas  of  Chrift,  and  of  the  final 
confequences  of  his  death,  with  refpecl  to  the  hu- 
man fpecies,  without  infpiring  one  hope  of  falvation, 
whilft  men  continue  in  their  fins  ?  If  this  is  poffible, 
how  uncharitable  is  it,  to  draw  conclufions  from 
principles,  which  they,  who  hold  thofe  principles,  re- 
je6t  with  detefl:ation  ? 

Experience  and  obfervation  prove,  that  opinions 
have  not  that  influence  over  the  temper  and  actions, 
which  we  fhould  be  ready  to  imagine.  We  find  ex- 
cellent Chrifi:ians  among  all  denominations.  The 
man,  who  profeffes  to  build  his  future  hopes  upon  a 
principle  of  faith,  will  flill  be  careful  to  maintain 
good  works.  And  he,  who  afcribes  a  greater  efiicacy 
to  works,  will  neverthelefs  admit  the  indifpenfable 
neceffity  of  faith,  and  will  entertain  the  moft  exalted 
ideas  of  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  interpofition  of 
his  Son.  He  that  believes  in  unconditional  eledion, 
will  endeavour  to  make  his  calling  and  election  fure. 
And  he  who  profeffes  to  believe,  that  his  future  con- 
dition was  predetermined  before  the  world  began, 

will 


23^  QN    CANDOUR,  [SeRM,  XX, 

will  ftill  endeavour  to  work  out  his  own  falvatioa 
with  fear  and  trembling.  Among  Chriftians,  whofe 
creed  may  appear  contra<fled,  we  often  find  a  moll 
enlarged  benevolence  of  heart.  And  among  liberal 
Chriftians,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  the  moft  be- 
coming ferioufnefs,  purity,  and  habitual  devotion, 
Thefe  fad:s  fliould  make  us  careful  of  judging  others. 
And  on  no  occafion  whatever,  fhould  we  allow  our-, 
felves  to  draw  conclufions  from  their  principles, 
which  they  abfolutely  difavow  in  words,  and  contra- 
did  by  the  uniform  tenor  of  their  lives. 

Finally— We  ftand  reproved  by  the  apofl:ls, 
when  we  judge  others,  without  being  acquainted 
with  circumftances  ;  and  when  we  impute  to  a  bad 
motive,  aftions  which  are  capable  of  a  fair  Gonfl:ruc- 
tion.  This  was  not  the  fpirit  of  Chrift  ;  nor  is  it 
that  of  the  gofpel.  Chriftianity  obliges  us  to  think 
favourably  of  every  perfon,  till  facts  appear  to  the 
difadvantage  of  his  charader.  In  the  production  o£ 
all  human  actions,  there  may  be  a  concurrence  of 
many  motives.  Some  of  our  moft  fplendid  adions 
may  arife  in  part  from  our  original  conftitution  :  and 
many  actions,  immoral  in  their  form,  may  have  been 
the  eflFe(5t  of  furprife,  inattention,  or  fome  conftitu- 
tional  infirmity.  Though  no  excufe  can  be  made, 
and  no  charity  exercifed,  where  there  is  open,  habit- 
ual, and  deliberate  wickednefs ;  caution,  therefore,  is 
to  be  obferved,  where  a  fingle  action  comes  before  us. 
And  if  it  be  poffible  to  reconcile  it  with  a  general 
goodnefs  of  heart,  the  benevolence  of  the  gofpel 
obliges  us  to  do  it.  For  how  much,  then,  have  thofe 
to  anfwer,  who  always  fee  things  in  the  moft  unfa- 
vourable light  ;  and  rafhly  condemn,  where  they 
might  charitably  excufe. 

The  foregoing  remarks  will  point  out  the  true 

fpirU 


Serm.  XX.1  on  candour*  537 

fpirit  and  meaning  ©f  the  admonition  in  the  text. 
The  reafon,  which  follows,  defer ves  our  moft  ferioug 
attention.  Having  inquired,  "who  art  thou  that 
judgeft  another  man*s  fervant,"  the  apoftle  adds, "  to 
his  own  matter,  he  ftandeth  or  falleth."  Our  maf- 
ter  is  Chrift.  As  a  reward  of  his  obedience  to  death, 
God  hath  highly  exalted  him  ;  invefted  him  with  all 
power  in  heaven  and  earth  ;  and  conftituted  him 
judge  of  the  world.  And  to  him  we  mull  all  anfwer 
for  the  opinions,  which  we  have  believed ;  for  the 
habits,  which  we  have  contraded  ;  for  the  words, 
which  we  have  uttered  ;  and  for  the  anions,  which 
we  have  performed.  Accordingly,  the  apoftle  argues, 
"  why  doft  thou  judge  thy  brother  ?  or  why  doft 
thou  fet  at  naught  thy  brother  ?  for  we  fhall  all 
ftand  before  the  judgment  feat  of  Chrift.** 

He,  who  once  appeared  as  our  inftrucler,  example, 
and  redeemer,  will  hereafter  appear  in  the  more  glo» 
rious  charafter  of  our  judge.  And  as  his  merit  en- 
tides  him,  fo  his  acquaintance  with  human  nature 
fufficiently  qualifies  him,  to  difcharge  this  office.  For 
thefe  reafons,  we  ought  to  leave  his  fervants  to  ftand 
or  fall  by  his  deciiion.  Do  others  entertain  opinions, 
which  we  efteem  erroneous  ?  Whether  they  are 
fuch,  we  muft  leave  to  his  determination  :  and  whe* 
ther  their  heads  or  hearts  be  moft  in  fault,  muft  like- 
wife  be  fubmitted  to  our  bleffed  mafter.  We  are 
fallible,  but  he  is  not.  He  fearches  the  hearts  ;  and 
he  is  perfedly  acquainted  with  the  human  under- 
ftanding,  its  powers,  its  weaknefTes,  its  prejudices, 
and  its  various  infirmities.  Thofe,  whom  we  con- 
demn, may,  therefore,  appeal  to  a  higher  authority. 
And  we  cannot  reafonably  doubt,  that  many  fen- 
tences  pronounced  by  us,  will  be  reverfed  by  our 
^ife  and  righteous  judge. 

And, 


^^3^  ON    CANDOUR.  [SeRM.  XX, 

And,  in  like  manner,  as  the  opinions,  fo  the  mo- 
tives of  our  fellow-chriftians,  and  their  principles  of 
action,  muft  be  fubmitted  to  him.  In  many  cafes, 
we  want  that  information,  which  is  neceflary,  to 
guide  our  judgment.  But  all  things  are  known  to 
our  Saviour  :  every  fpring  of  a(ftion  is  vilible  to  his 
eye  ;  and  how  far  the  motives,  which  influenced  the 
agent,  can  be  reconciled  with  the  principles  of  Chrif- 
tianity,  no  one  can  determine,  but  the  author  of 
that  religion.  That  the  Son  of  God  is  our  confti- 
tuted  judge,  is,  therefore,  a  fufficient  reafon  that  we 
fhould  not  officioufly  judge  one  another. 

Let  us  then,  to  apply  the  fubjeft,  carefully  avoid 
this  great  tranfgrefiion.  Let  us  accuftom  ourfelves 
to  refleft,  that  nothing  can  lefs  confift  with  the  chrif- 
tian  charader,  than  a  bitter,  cenforious  fpirit.  Let 
us  watch  over  ourfelves,  left,  at  any  time,  we  indulge 
a  temper  which  the  gofpel  reprobates,  and  which 
Chrift  and  the  apoftles  prohibited  in  the  moft  pointed 
terms.  Let  us  remember  our  incompetence  to  judge 
in  many  cafes,  which  may  occur.  And  let  us  con- 
tinually afk  our  hearts,  whether,  upon  a  change  of 
circumftances  with  others,  we  might  not  have  enter- 
tained their  opinions,  and  been  governed  by  their 
principles.  This  queftion,  frequently  and  folenmly 
propofed,  would  have  a  good  effed:.  It  would  great- 
ly check  a  cenforious  fpirit,  and  it  would  enforce  the 
admonition  of  the  apoftle. 

Carefully  to  examine,  and  feverely  to  judge 
ourfelves,  would  like  wife  have  a  happy  tendency. 
The  reafon  why  many  are  fo  very  cenforious,  is  be- 
caufe  they  never  look  into  their  own  hearts.  More 
attention  to  themfelves,  would  lead  them  to  be  more 
juft  to  others.  And  this  is  certain,  that  the  beft 
Chriftian  will,  upon  infpedion,  be  fo  dilTatisfied  with 

himfelf. 


SeRM.  XXIJ  THE    COMPASSION,    Cffr.  2^^ 

himfelf,  as  to  referve  his  cenfures  for  his  own  mif- 
condud. 

Finally' — Let  us  bear  in  mind  the  future  appear- 
ance of  our  bleffed  mafter  ;  and  the  account  which 
we  muft  then  give.  To  him  we  muft  anfwer  for  all 
our  thoughts,  words,  and  actions  :  and  before  the 
fame  tribunal  will  all  our  fellow-chriftians  be  cited. 
And  what  will  then  be  our  confufion,  fliould  we  hear 
thofe  applauded,  whom  we  had  condemned ;  thofe 
pronounced  bleffed,  whom  we  had  pronounced  ac- 
curfed  ;  thofe  invited  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
whom  we  had  fentenced  to  the  place  of  punifliment  ? 
After  fuch  injurious  conduct  towards  the  fervants, 
how  fliould  we  dare  to  meet  the  eye  of  the  mafter  ? 
To  avoid  fuch  confulion,  let  us  abftain  from  the  of- 
fence. And  inafmuch  as  we  fliall  have  judgment 
without  mercy,  if  we  now  refufe  mercy ;  let  us  re- 
folve  to  live  in  the  continual  exercife  of  charity, 
knowing  that  this  heavenly  virtue  will  cover  a  mul- 
titude of  lins. 


)txmon  XXI. 


On  the  Companion  of  Chrift. 

John  xi.  ;^s. 
*'  JESUS    WEPT." 

OU  R  bleffed  Saviour,  when  on  earth,  formed  a 
very  intimate  connexion  with  Martha,  Mary, 
and  their  brother  Lazarus.  The  latter,  during  the 
abfence  gf  his  heavenly  friend,  being  feizejd  with 

fomc 


^4^  THE    COMPASSION  [SeRM.  XXL 

ibme  alarming  diforder,  the  fifters  *'  fent  unto  Jefus, 
faying,  behold  he,  whom  thou  loveft,  is  fick.**— — 
*'  When  Jefus  heard  that,  he  faid,  this  licknefs  is  not 
unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of  God,  that  the  Son  of 
God  might  be  glorified  thereby."  Inftead  of  halting, 
therefore,  to  his  friends,  "  he  abode  two  days  ftill  in 
the. place  where  he  then  was."  "Then,  after  that, 
faith  he  to  his  difciples,  let  us  go  into  Judea  again.** 
This  propofal  met  with  their  inftant  difapprobation  ; 
and  they  ufed  every  argument  to  diffuade  their  maf- 
ter  from  expofing  his  life  to  the  malice  of  the  Jews  : 
for,  it  feems,  they  did  not  yet  underftand  for  what 
purpofe  he  came  into  the  world.  To  reconcile  them 
to  this  meafure,  Jefus  was  under  the  neceffity  of  in- 
forming them  that  Lazarus  was  dead ;  and  that  the 
objedl  of  his  vilit  was  to  reftore  him  to  life.  This 
information  filenced  every  objeflion  ;  and  the  difci- 
ples readily  confented  to  accompany  their  mafter. 

Drawing  near  to  Bethany,  Martha  went  out  to 
meet  Jefus  ;  and,  as  foon  as  fhe  faw  him,  Ihe  faid, 
*'  Lord,  if  thou  hadft  been  here,  my  brother  had  not 
died.*'  But  with  a  faith,  which  did  her  great  hon- 
our, file  added,  "  I  know,  that  even  now,  whatfo- 
ever  thou  wilt  alk  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee." 
Jefus  replied, "  thy  brother  Ihall  rife  again."  To  this 
file  readily  affented,  fuppofing,  however,  that  he 
meant  at  the  refurrection  day.  But  Jefus  gave  her 
to  underftand,  that  he  would  immediately  accom- 
plifh  his  promife.  Upon  this,  fhe  ran  and  called  her 
fifter,  who,  feeing  the  companionate  Saviour,  fell  at 
his  feet,  and  faid,  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadft  been  here, 
my  brother  had  not  died."  "  When  Jefus,  therefore, 
faw  her  weeping,  and  the  Jews  alfo  weeping,  who 
came  with  her,  he  groaned  in  the  fpirit,  and  was 
troubled.    And  faid,  where  have  ye  laid  him  ?  They 

fay 


SeRM.  XXL]  OF    CHRIST.  241 

lay  unto  him,  Lord,  come  and  fee.  Jefus  wept^'^-^^ 
Such  is  the  ftory,  of  which  the  words  in  the  text 
are  a  very  ftriking  part.  Its  fequel  is  well  known. 
Chrift  went  to  the  grave  j  and  there,  in  the  prefence 
of  many  fpe(5lators,  reftored  his  friend  to  life..  So 
ftupendous  a  miracle  was  not  without  its  efTect.  It 
convinced  the  friends  of  his  unfeisfned  affeclion. — 
It  convinced  fome  of  the  Jews  of  his  divine  million. 
And  it  greatly  llrengthened  the  faith  of  his  difciples. 

The'  refurredion  of  Lazarus  is  one  of  the  moft 
Wonderful  works,  which  our  Saviour  ever  performed. 
Hence,  it  has  been  thought  ftrange,  that  John  only 
fliould  introduce  it  into  his  narrative.  He,  indeed, 
has  related  it  with  a  limplicity  of  ftyle,  a  minutenefs, 
and  a  brevity,  which  are  highly  plealing.  But  how 
fhall  we  account  for  the  lilence  of  the  other  hifto- 
rians  ?  Was  this  miracle  unknown  to  them  ?  or  had 
they  private  reafons  for  making  no  particular  men- 
tion of  it  ? 

To  folve  this  difficulty,  fome  have  faid,  that  none 
of  the  evangelifts  ever  aimed  at  giving  a  complete  ac- 
count of  all  our  Saviour's  miracles.  This  is  an  un- 
doubted faft ;  but  it  does  not  reach  the  difficulty. 
For,  if  you  examine,  you  will  find,  that  they  have 
given  a  joint  account  of  miracles,  by  no  means  to  be 
compared  with  this.  The  beft  folution  that  I  have 
met  with,  is  fuggefted  by  a  modern  writer  of  great 
eminence,  whofe  words  are — "  It  deferves  partic- 
"  ularly  to  be  attended  to,  that  the  evangeiifts  muft 
"  have  felt  a  lingular  delicacy  with  refpecl  to  this 
"  miracle.  Firft,  becaufe  it  was  a  miracle  performed 
"  on  a  friend^  in  a  family  with  which  our  Saviour 
"  was  intimate.  And,  fccondly,  becaufe  Lazarus 
"  might  be  living  at  the  time  the  three  firft  evaH- 
"  gelifts  wrote  their  gofpels,  and  might  be  fubjeded 
Gg  "  *=to 


242  THE    COMPAS-SION  [SeRM.  XXL 

"  to  great  inconveniences  by  having  his  name  men- 
*•  tioned  as  the  fubje<5t  of  fuch  a  miracle.  This,  how- 
"  ever,  was  a  reafon,  which  cannot  be  fuppofed  to 
*'  have  exifted  when  John  wrote.  There  was  a  tra-^ 
"  dition  among  the  fathers,  that  Lazarus  lived  thirty 
"  years  after  his  refurrecflion  ;  and  John  did  not 
*^  write  his  gofpel  till  at  leaft  forty  or  fifty  years  af- 
"  terwards.  Lazarus,  therefore,  moil  probably  was^ 
"  then  not  alive  :  and  John,  for  this  reafon,  mull 
*'  have  been  more  at  liberty  to  give  an  account  of 
"  his  refurredion."  Every  one  will  judge  of  this 
reafoning  ;  and  give  it  the  weight  which  it  deferves. 
The  diftrefs,  which  Jefus  manifefted,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  grave  of  his  friend,  is  the  fubjedl  of  this 
(difcourfe.  We  read,  not  only  that  he  groaned  ia 
the  fpirit,  and  was  troubled,  but  alfo,  that  he  honour- 
ed the  tomb  of  Lazarus  with  his  tears.  This  would 
be  eafily  accounted  for,  had  the  lofs  been  irreparable. 
Had  Jefus  been  then  confcious,  that  he  was  going, 
in  all  probability,  to  make  an  unfuccefsful  attempt  to 
raife  his  friend,  we  could  not  wonder  if  he  paid  this 
tribute  to  his  memory.  But  the  very  reverfe  of  this 
was  the  truth.  Jefus  knew  that  Lazarus  would 
come  forth  at  his  word.  He  predicled  this  event, 
when  firft  apprifed  of  his  death.  "  Our  friend,"  faid 
he  to  his  difciples,  "  ileepcth,  but  I  go  to  wake  him 
out  of  his  fleep."  When  he  faw  the  weeping  rela- 
tives, he  affured  them  that  he  iliould  rife  again. 
And  when  he  came  to  the  tomb,  "  he  lifted  up  his 
eyes,  and  faid.  Father,  I  thank  thee,  that  thou  haft 
heard  me  ;  and  I  knew  that  thou  heareft  me  always  j 
but  becaufe  of  the  people,  which  Hand  by,  I  faid  it, 
that  they  may  believe  that  thou  haft  fent  me.  And 
when  he  had  thus  fpoken,  he  cried  with  a  loud 
T/oice,  Lazarus,  come  forth,"     From  all  thefe  paffages- 

it 


6eRM.  XXI J  CF    CH&IST.  34^ 

it  appears,  tha^t  Jefus  well  knew  the  confequences  of 
tliis  viiit.  He  knew  that  he  ihould  foon  rcftore  him 
to  his  friends,  to  their  great  joy,  and  to  the  aftoniih- 
jnent  of  ail  the  fpeclators.  Whence  then  his  grief? 
Might  we  not  rather  have  expected  the  greateft  ele- 
vation of  fpirits,  upon  the  near  profped  of  glorifying 
Ms  heavenly  Father,  by  a  ftupendous  niiracie,  con- 
firming his  religion,  eftablifliing  the  faith  of  his  dif- 
ciples,  and  doing  the  higheft  poffible  favour  to  his 
friends  ?  Sureiy  this  had  been  a  natural  expectation. 
Yet,  fo  far  from  appearing  elated  on  the  occalion, 
we  are  politively  affured,  that  yefm  luept  !  The  quef- 
tion  is,  what  called  forth  the  tears  of  our  blefled  Sa- 
viour ?  And  how  are  we  to  improve  this  affecting 
part  of  his  example  ? 

And,  firft — It  is  reafonable  to  think,  that  the  ex- 
treme anguifh  of  his  friends,  and  the  fympathizing 
forrow  of  the  Jews,  who  came  to  weep  with  them, 
might  call  forth  the  tears  of  the  Son  of  God.  The 
diftrefs  of  others  produces  an  inftant  effect  upon  the 
truly  tender  and  feeling  mind.  There  is  no  reflec- 
tion in  the  cafe  :  the  effed  is,  in  a  manner,  mechan- 
ical. When  perfons  of  that  amiable  fenfibility,  which 
fometimes  adorns  human  nature,  are  only  accidental 
fpedators  of  forrow,  they  cannot  remain  unmoved. 
They  have  a  tear  for  every  wo  ;  and  a  pang  for 
every  fon  and  daughter  of  alfli<5tion.  Our  Saviour 
was,  without  difpute,  poffeffed  of  this  fenfibility  in 
the  higheft  degree.  Himfelf  trained  in  the  fchool  o£ 
adverfity,  he  knew  what  it  was  to  fuffer,  and  had 
learned  how  to  pity.  Seeing,  therefore,  his  beft 
friends  in  deep  diftrefs,  he  fhared  their  anguifli. 
Their  grief  melted  him  into  tears.  He  knew,  in- 
deed, that  it  would  foon  be  turned  to  joy  :  ftill, 
however,  he  mourned  with  them,  becaufe  they  fuf- 

fered 


^44  ^HE  COMPASSION  [Serm.  XXI, 

fered  at  the  time  ;  and  becaufe  he  could  eafily  con- 
ceive what  they  had  endured  before  his  coming. 
The  conftitution  of  human  nature,  of  which  our 
Lord,  when  on  earth,  was  a  partaker,  will,  therefore, 
account  both  for  his  forrow  of  heart,  and  for  thofe 
expreflions  of  it,  which  are  mentioned  in  the  text. 
And  it  is  delightful  to  refled,  that  we  have  a  high 
prieft,  who  can  fympathize  with  us,  having  palTed 
through  a  fad  variety  of  calamities  ;  having  mourn- 
ed as  we  mourn  ;  and  experienced  all  that  a  humane 
heart,  unconfcious  of  guilt,  and  incapable  of  remorfe, 
could  fuffer. 

Secondly — Our  Lord  might  weep  at  the  fad  re- 
collection of  the  miferies  brought  upon  mankind  by 
the  apoftacy.  We  are  informed,  that  "  by  one  man 
fin  came  into  the  world,  and  death  by  lin,  and  that 
death  hath  palTed  upon  all."  And  if  we  turn  to  the 
mofaic  account  of  the  fall,  we  Ihall  find  this  repre- 
fentation  particularly  explained  and  confirmed.  Our 
Saviour,  therefore,  might  be  melted  into  tears  at  that 
view  of  human  mortality,  to  which  he  might  be  led 
by  the  death  of  his  friend.  Circumftanced  as  lie 
then  was,  the  reflection  would  be  natural.  We  may 
fuppofe  that  his  thoughts  took  the  following  turn. 
Thefe  are  the  mournful  confequences  of  the  firft  acl 
of  difobedience.  Unhappy  day,  when  the  parents  of 
mankind  brought  death  into  the  world,  that  fource 
of  wo.  In  confequence  of  their  tranfgreflion,  the 
fentence,  "  duft  thou  art,  and  unto  duft  thou  muft 
return,"  is  put  in  execution  upon  ail  their  pofterity. 
Melancholy  cataftrophe  !  Awful  monument  of  the 
divine  difpleafure  !  Who  can  take  a  view  of  the 
wide  ruin,  and  not  drop  a  compaflionate  tear  over 
the  various  miferies  of  mortal  men  ! 

BsUT,  thirdly— r-His  own  approaching  crucifixion 

migh^ 


Serm.  XXL]  OF  cHRisf .  245 

might  add  to  our  Lord's  diftrefs.  He  was  now  go- 
ing to  Jerufalem,  where  he  knew  he  fliould  fiiffer  the 
moft  excruciating  and  infamous  punifhment.  And 
it  appears  from  our  Lord's  agony  in  the  garden,  that 
he  had  very  formidable  apprehenlions  of  the  death, 
to  which  he  was  appointed.  Perhaps,  he  was  of  a 
very  tender  and  delicate  frame.  That  he  had  a  great 
Ihare  of  fenfibility,  is  moll  certain.  And  knowing 
more  than  we  do,  he  might  be  able  to  form  a  better 
idea  of  the  anguifh  of  the  crofs.  When,  therefore, 
he  approached  the  tomb  of  his  friend,  the  apprehen- 
fions  of  his  own  death  might  mingle  themfelves  with 
his  other  forrowful  refle<flions.  He  might,  at  that 
moment,  think  what  he  fhould  foon  endure.  The 
accurfed  death  of  the  crofs  might  prefent  itfelf  to  his 
imagination.  And  melted,  as  he  was,  with  the  for- 
rows  of  his  friends,  he  might  caft  one  glance  of  pity 
upon  himfelf.  This  will  appear  at  leaft  poflible,  if 
we  follow  him  to  the  garden  of  Gethfemane.  We 
there  find  him  in  an  agony.  "  My  foul,"  faith  he, 
"  is  exceeding  forrowful,  even  unto  death.  O,  my 
Father,  if  it  be  poiTible,  let  this  cup  pafs  from  me." 
And  we  are  further  informed,  that  his  "  fweat  was, 
as  it  were,  great  drops  of  blood,  falling  down  to  the 
ground.'*  All  this  indicates  fuch  a  degree  of  fenfi- 
bility, as  to  render  the  fuppofition  above,  at  leaft, 
pofTible.  And  it  was  wifely  ordered,  that  Chrift 
fhould  feel  fo  much,  in  order  to  accommodate  his 
example  to  mankind  j  and  render  it  more  worthy 
of  our  imitation. 

Fourthly — Chrift  might  weep  at  the  apprehen- 
iion  of  certain  confequences,  which,  he  knew,  would 
follow  the  miracle,  which  he  was  about  to  work. 
Among  the  fpedlators,  were  not  only  the  relatives  of 
J^azaruSj  but  many  JewSj  whp  came  to  fympathize 

with 


-64^  THE    COMPASSION  [SeRM.  XXl, 

with  them.  Thefe,  upon  feeing  the  mirack,  were 
divided  in  their  fentiments  refpecling  its  author. 
Many  of  them  believed.  But  fome  there  were,  "  who 
went  th<2ir  way  to  the  pharifees,  and  told  them  what 
Jefus  had  done."  Thefe,  it  is  reafonable  to  think, 
not  only  remained  in  a  ftate  of  infidelity,  but  cheer- 
fully improved  this  opportunity  to  accufe  him  to 
his  enemies.  A  more  melancholy  fight  there  cannot 
be,  than  ftubborn  and  malicious  unbelief.  When 
men  become  hardened  by  the  veiy  means  which  are 
ufed  for  their  conviction,  their  cafe  is  deplorable. 
Their  guilt  will  be  meafured  by  their  obftinacy,  and 
they  may  expect  an  aggravated  condemnation. 

How  great,  then,  the  crime  of  thofe,  who  faw 
Lazarus  come  forth,  and  yet  made  no  other  improve- 
ment of  fuch  a  ftupendous  act  of  power,  than  to  ac- 
cufe  Jefus  to  his  enemies  ?  Their  llubbornnefs,  our 
Lord  forefaw.  And  it  is  very  conceivable,  that  his 
tears  flowed  the  more  plentifully  on  this  account. 
They,  it  feems,  would  not  be  perfuaded,  though  one 
rofe  from  the  dead.  What  then  remained  for  them, 
but  to  go  on,  oppofing  the  truth,  till  their  infidelity 
fhould  become  their  ruin.  This,  no  doubt,  was 
eventually  their  fate,  And  forefeeing  it,  our  Lord 
might  be  melted  at  the  profped.- 

Finally — It  is  probable,  Jefus  wept  from  a  pre- 
fentiment  of  the  dreadful  ruin,  which  was  foon  to 
overtake  the  whole  Jewifli  nation.  When  informed 
of  the  refurreclion  of  Lazarus,  the  chief  priefts  and 
pharifees  immediately  gathered  a  council,  "  What 
do  we,  faid  they,  for  this  man  doeth  many  miracles  ? 
If  we  let  him  thus  alone,  all  men  will  believe  on 
him."  This,  which  was  indeed  jufi;  reafoning,  fug- 
gefted  a  propofal,  that  Jefus  fliould  die.  "  Then, 
from  that  day  forth,  they  took  counfel  together  to 

put 


SzRM.  XXI.]  or  CHRIST.  24/ 

put  him  to  death."  The  refurreclion  of  Lazarus 
was  fo  great  a  miracle,  and  fo  well  attefled,  that  the 
Jews  could  not  deny  his  fupernatural  powers.  They, 
therefore,  refolved  to  put  a  flop  to  the  growing  evil, 
as  they  impioufly  efteemed  the  fame  of  Chrift,  and 
the  fuccefs  attending  his  miniftry.  One  meafurc 
devifed  by  them  was,  to  put  Lazarus  to  death.  But 
at  length,  they  determined  upon  the  deftrudion  of 
his  reftorer.  This  refolution  they  carried  into  effed. 
And  the  murder  of  Chrift  was  revenged  by  the  utter 
ruin  of  their  city  and  nation.  No  perfons  were  ever 
punifhed  in  a  more  terrible  manner  than  the  Jews. 
The  numbers,  that  periflied  by  the  fword,  can  fcarcely 
be  credited  at  this  day.  Irritated  to  a  high  degree, 
by  their  unprovoked  rebellion,  the  Romans  wrapt 
both  their  city  and  temple  in  flames.  And  to  ex- 
tinguilh  all  hope  of  rebuilding  on  that  facred  fpor, 
the  very  foundations  were  ploughed  up,  and  a  Gen- 
tile colony  planted  in  the  neighbourhood. 

All  thefe  events,  our  blelTed  mafter  clearly  fore- 
faw.  Beholding  the  devoted  city,  he  had  before 
wept  over  it.  And  now,  calling  to  mind  the  ftores 
of  divine  wrath  ready  to  burft  upon  them,  he  could 
not,  whilft  he  lamented  the  obftinacy  of  the  Jews, 
but  bewail  their  fate.  He  faw  them  flain  by  the 
fword,  or  led  in  triumph  as  flaves  and  captives.  He 
faw  his  father's  houfe  in  flames  -,  and  not  one  ftone 
of  that  facred  and  coftly  building  left  upon  another. 
He  faw  the  Jews  fcattered  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
and  vainly  dreaming  of  a  future  Meffiah.  Conned- 
ing  thefe  events  with  his  own  death,  and  his  death 
with  the  ftupendous  miracle,  which  he  was  about 
to  work,  the  fubjed  affeded  him  in  the  manner  de- 
feribed  in  the  text. 

Thus  have  we  feen  the  caufe  of  thofe  tears,  which 

our 


34S  THE    COMPASSION  [jSeRM.  XXI. 

our  Saviour  flied  on  this  folemn  occafion.  He  wept, 
becaufe  he  faw  his  friends  weeping.  He  wept  at  the 
iTiiferies  and  mortality  of  mankind.  He  wept,  per- 
haps, at  the  profped  of  his  own  painful  and  igno- 
minious death.  He  wept  at  the  hardnefs  and  malig- 
nity of  heart,  which  he  difcerned  among  fome  of  the 
fpeclators.  And  he  wept  at  the  overwhelming  ruin, 
which  he  knew  would  foon  punifli.the  infidelity  of 
the  Jews.  Thefe  were  fufficient  to  melt  a  heart  fo 
tender  and  companionate  as  that  of  our  Saviour. 

From  this  fubject,  we  learn  the  excellency  of  a 
compaffionate  temper.  Many  perfons  pretend  to  re- 
gard the  tender  paifions  as  a  mark  of  weaknefs. 
Ambitious  of  being  confidered  as  ftoics  and  philofo- 
phers,  they  difdain  to  be  moved  on  any  occafion. 
But  why  need  we  be  afliamed  of  that  fenfibility, 
which  enables  us  to  "  rejoice  with  them  who  rejoice, 
and  w^eep  with  them  who  weep.'*  Have  not  the 
braveft  heroes,  and  the  mofi:  eminent  faints,  polTelTed 
a  large  fhare  of  it  ?  Are  they  not  frequently  painted 
in  tears  ?  Abraham  was  a  brave  and  a  good  man  ; 
yet  we  read,  that  he  mourned  and  wept.  Jofeph, 
David,  and  Jonathan,  alio,  were  no  ftrangers  to  the 
fame  emotions.  Hezekiah  and  Jeremiah  wept  fore. 
And  even  that  great  Chriftian  hero,  St.  Paul,  fre- 
quently fhed  tears,  if  not  cm  his  own  perfonal  ac-^ 
count,  yet  out  of  compaffion  to  others.  We  need 
not,  therefore,  be  afliamed  to  refemble  fuch  diftin- 
guiflied  chara6t:ers.  Should  the  fame  difpofition  be 
in  us,  which  was  alfo  in  Chrift,  we  fhall  not  be  dif- 
graced.  We  learn  no  ftoical  maxims,  either  from 
the  gofpel,  or  its  author.  One  great  objed  of  that 
divine  religion,  is  to  improve  the  benevolence  of  our 
nature ;  and  to  render  us  more  compafilonate  and 
feehng.    So  far,  then,  from  endeavouring  to  extin- 

guifh. 


SeRM.  XXL]  OF    CHRIST.  249 

guifh,  let  us  cultivate  the  tender  paflions.  Let  us 
learn 'both  to  fliare  the  joys  and  griefs  of  others. 
And  let  us  ever  regard  a  compafiionate  fenfibility  as 
one  of  the  moft  amiable  parts  in  the  conftitution  of 
human  nature.  The  more  wq  refemble  Chrift  in  this 
rcfpecl:,  the  better  we  Ihall  be.  And  though  a  great 
degree  of  compaflion  may  open  our  bofoms  to  many 
prefent  wounds,  yet  it  will  qualify  us  for  fuperior 
bleffednefs  in  the  world  to  come. 

Secondly — We  learn  from  the  fubjeA  before  us, 
that  perfect  goodnefs  will  not  enfure  perfect:  felicity. 
Our  Saviour  did  no  fin.  Neither  in  thought,  word, 
or  deed,  did  he  ever  tranfgrefs  a  law  of  his  heavenly 
father.  Yet  he  was  a  man  of  forrows,  and  acquaint- 
ed with  grief.  In  the  days  of  his  flefli,  he  poured 
out  many  tears.  His  difciples,  therefore,  are  not  to 
be  difcouraged,  if  they  fometimes  fuffer  adverfity. 
It  is  impoffible  for  any  man  to  live  in  this  world, 
without  being  a  fpeftator  of  many  diftreffing  fcenes. 
The  Chriftian  can  leaft  expeft  it.  For  this  reafon, 
he  fliould  prepare  himfelf,  as  to  rejoice,  fo  to  mourn. 

Finally — Though  our  Lord  once  wept,  he  weeps 
no  more.  His  fufferings  are  at  an  end.  At  the  right 
hand  of  God,  he  enjoys  the  perfection  of  glory  and 
bleffednefs  :  and  the  fame  glory  and  bleffednefs  fhall 
we  fliare,  if  his  mind  be  in  us,  and  we  be  careful  to 
walk  as  he  walked.  Let  us,  then,  often  look  for- 
ward to  thofe  good  things,  which  he  hath  prepared 
for  them  who  love  him.  Let  us  reflect  on  the  feli- 
city of  thofe,  who  ftiall  have  a  part  in  the  firft  refur- 
redion.  And,  above  all  things,  let  us  endeavour  fo 
to  behave  here  below,  that  when  we  fail  here,  we 
may  be  received  into  eternal  habitations.  Admitted 
to  the  kingdom  of  our  father,  v/e  ftiaU  know  neither 
forrow,  nor  fighing,  nor  any  more  pain.  Old  things 
I-j  h  having 


350  THE    PATIEN-CE  [SeRM.  XXIL 

having  palled  away,  and  all  become  new,  we  fliall 
have  all  tears  wiped  from  our  eyes.  God  will  be  our 
God  :  and  we  {hall  be  immortally  happy  in  his  pref» 
ence  and  favour. 

With  thefe  expeclations,  I  would  particularly 
wiih  to  confole  any  mourners  in  this  alTembly.  It  is 
always  painful  to  lofe  our  friends,  even  when  we 
have  reafon  to  think  that  life  was  a  burden,  and  they 
were  ardently  delirous  to  be  gone.  But  if  we  be- 
lieve in  the  gofpel,  we  cannot  forrow  as  thofe  who 
are  without  hope.  To  a  good  Chriftian,  death  is  un- 
fpeakable  gain.  Wherefore,  let  us  rather  improve 
the  death  of  fuch,  as  a  memento  of  our  own  mortal- 
ity. Let  us  be  excited  to  increafmg  diligence  in  our 
mafler^s  work  :  and  having  finiflied  our  courfe,  we 
ihall  join  thofe,  who  have  gone  before  ;  and  dwell 
forever  with  the  Lord. 


pennon  xxii. 

On  the  Patience  of  Chrift, 
Hebrews  xii.  3. 

'^^  FOR  CONSIDER  HIM,  WHO  ENDURED  SUCK  CONTRA- 
DICTION OF  SINNERS  AG-AINST  HIMSELF,  LEST  YE 
BE  WEARIED  AND  FAINT  IN  YOUR  MINDS." 

HOW  natural  is  it  to  fuppofe,  in  the  hour  of 
afflidlion,  that  our  trials  are  uncommonly  great ; 
and  that  our  condition  would  authorize  the  plain- 
^e  llrains  of  the  prophet,  "  is  it  nothing  to  you,  all. 


SeRM.  XXII.]  Of   CHRIST.  5^1 

ye  that  pafs  by  ?  Behold,  and  fee  if  there  be  any 
forrow  like  unto  my  forrow/*  When  depreffed  by 
fuffering,  it  is  the  infirmity,  even  of  the  beft  men,  to 
fall  into  thefe  reflections.  That  the  Hebrew  Chrif- 
tians  might  not  imagine  that  their  troubles  v/ere  un- 
exampled, the  WthoT  of  this  epiftle  calls  their  atten- 
tion to  a  very  interefting  period  of  their  hiftory. 
He  reminds  them  of  many  heroic  fiifferers  for  con- 
fcience*  fake  ;  and  he  defcribes  their  perfecution  in 
the  following  drains :  "  They  had  trial  of  cruel  mock- 
ings  and  fcourgings  ;  yea,  moreover,  of  bonds  and 
imprjfonment.  They  were  ftoned,  they  were  fawn 
afunder,  were  tempted,  were  flain  with  the  fword  : 
they  wandered  about,  dellitute,  ai31ided,  tormented.'* 
Thefe  eminently  great  and  good  men,  he  reprefents 
as  prefent  with  their  chriftian  fuccefTors,  and  applaud- 
ing fpeclators  of  their  firmnefs.  "  Wherefore^  fee- 
ing we  alfo  are  compalTed  about  with  fo  great  a 
cloud  of  witnefles,  let  us  lay  alide  every  weight,  and 
the  lin  which  doth  fo  eafily  befet  us,  and  let  us  run 
with  patience  the  race  that  is  fet  before  us.**  The 
fufferings  of  others  fuggefted  to  the  mind  of  the 
writer,  the  humiliation  of  our  blefled  Saviour.  Melt- 
ed with  the  affeding  fcene,  he  therefore  proceeds  : 
"  Looking  unto  Jefus,  the  author  and  finifher  of  our 
faith  ;  who,  for  the  joy  that  was  fet  before  him,  en- 
dured the  crofs,  defpiling  the  fliame,  and  is  fet  down 
at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God.**  The  text 
follows  :  "  For  confider  him,  that  endured  fuch 
contradiction  of  finners,  againft  himfelf,  left  ye  be 
wearied  and  faint  in  your  minds.**  To  point  out 
the  cpnnexion  of  thefe  words  ;  and  to  imprefs  the 
truth  contained  in  them,  I  would  offer  the  following 
paraphrafe.  You  may  poflibly  think,  that,  in  con- 
fequence  of  the  perfecutions  of  your  unbelieving 

neighbours. 


^5*  THE   PATIENC2  [SerM.  XXII. 

neighbours,  your  lot  is  hard,  beyond  example.  But 
do  not  entertain  the  thought.  Other  good  men  have 
fuffered  before  you.  And  if  you  refled  on  the  di- 
vine author  of  your  religion,  you  will  find,  that  your 
afflictions  will  admit  of  no  comparifon  with  his. 
For  your  encouragement,  therefor%  withdraw  your 
attention  from  other  obje<5ls  ;  and  think  only  of 
him,  who  has  called  you  to  this  glorious  enterprife. 
His  example  will  animate,  and  his  religion  will  fup- 
port  you,  till  your  conflid:  fliall  be  over.  He  is  now, 
indeed,  enthroned  at  the  right  hand  of  his  heavenly 
father  ;  but  previoully  to  his  elevation,  he  endured 
the  agonies  of  the  crofs,  and  the  infamy  of  a  public 
execution.  The  deepeft  humiliation  preceded  his  ad- 
miflion  to  that  world,  where  only  fuch  confummate 
goodnefs  could  receive  an  adequate  reward.  Believ- 
ing his  divine  religion,  do  you  dwell,  with  admira- 
tion, on  his  glorious  character.  Confider  the  dignity 
of  his  nature,  and  the  feverity  of  his  fufFerings  :  then 
will  you  be  prepared  for  any  conflid:,  to  which  the 
honour  of  your  Saviour,  and  the  interefts  of  his  re- 
ligion, may  call  you.  With  fuch  an  example  before 
your  eyes,  you  cannot  grow  weary  and  faint  in  your 
minds. 

The  words,  thus  explained,  may  be  conlidered  as 
a  leffon  of  inftruCtion  to  all,  wlio  bear  the  denomina- 
tion of  Chriftians.  That  we  may  convert  them  to 
our  own  advantage,  I  fliall,  firft,  remark,  that  it  is 
poflible,  we  may  grow  weary  and  faint  in  our  minds. 
To  prevent  which,  I  would  recommend,  fecondly, 
the  habitual  contemplation  of  Chrift,  and  more  par- 
ticularly the  temper,  with  which  he  endured  the  con- 
tiradiclion  of  finners. 

First — Though  we  do  not  live  in  an  age  of  reli- 
gious perfecution,  yet  we  have  our  trials  j  and,  under 

thofe 


SeRM.  XXIL]  OF   CHRIST.  ^53 

thofe  trials,  we  may  grow  weary  and  faint  in  our 
minds.  It  is  evidently  the  defign  of  God,  tliat  the 
fufferings  of  this  ftate  fhould  prepare  us  for  the  joys 
of  another.  Such  is  the  imperfection  of  our  na- 
ture, that  trouble  in  fome  form,  and  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, is  necellary.  Hence,  when  we  are  not  under 
the  preffure  of  real  evils,  thofe  which  are  imaginary 
will  fupply  their  place.  For  which  reafon,  all  ex- 
pedations  of  pure  enjoyment,  on  this  fide  the  grave, 
if  we  are  fo  extravagant  as  to  form  them,  mull  end 
in  difappointment. 

But,  as  a  portion  of  trouble  is  the  lot  of  all,  fo  it 
is  the  misfortune  of  fome  to  grow  weary  and  faint< 
They  do  not  contemplate  the  all-difpofing  providence 
of  God  in  the  courfe  of  events.  The  confummate 
wifdom,  and  perfect  benevolence,  agreeably  to  which 
the  divine  government  is  condy<5led,  are  not  realized 
by  them.  They  do  not  advert  to  the  end  of  trouble. 
Hence  the  complaints,  which  fometimes  efcape  their 
unguarded  lips,  and  the  uneafy  ftate  of  their  minds, 
when  their  enjoyments  are  interrupted. 

Do  they  experience  unkind  ufage  from  the  world? 
they  are  ftrongly  tempted  to  retire  from  it  in  dif- 
guft.  Are  offices  of  friendlhip  overlooked  ?  they  are 
ready  to  form  the  fatal  refolution  to  delift  from  thofe 
offices.  Is  the  good,  which  they  have  done  to  thofe 
who  ftood  in  need  of  th^ir  affiftance,  repaid  with 
evil  ?  in  a  moment  of  indignatix)n,  they  are  tempted 
to  repent  of  their  kindnefs,  and  to  refolve  to  do  good 
no  more.  Have  offences,  often  forgiven,  been  wick- 
edly repeated  ?  they  have  grown  weary  of  one  of  the 
moft  amiable  of  all  the  chriflian  virtues.  In  their  tem- 
poral purfuits,  though  condu(5led  with  fairneis  and 
honefty,  have  they  been  unfuccefsful  ?  they  have  been 
ftrongly  inclined  to  call  in  <]ueftion  the  excellency  of 

truth 


254  T«E    PATIENCE  [SeRM.  XXir. 

truth  and  juftice,  and  the  policy  of  doing  to  others, 
as  they  would  that  others  fliould  do  to  them.  Not- 
withftanding  the  rectitude  of  their  hearts,  and  the 
innocency  of  their  lives,  have  their  virtues  been  diff 
puted,  their  character  flandered,  or  their  good  been 
fivil-fpoken  of  ?  They  have  perceived  the  vanity  of 
all  attempts  to  commend  themfelves  to  the  confciences 
of  all  in  the  fight  of  God  ;  and  have  been  filled  with 
wonder,  that  fuch  a  rule  was  ever  prefcribed  by  the 
Saviour  of  men.  Comparing  their  lot  in  the  world 
with  that  of  others  ;  feeing  men,  who  are  open  con- 
temners of  God  and  religion,  in  great  outward  prof- 
perity,  when  they  are  in  adverfity ;  feeing  them  in 
affluence,  whiifl:  they  themfelves  are  in  want ;  feeing 
the  ingrateful  and  difobedient  in  honour,  whilfi:  they^ 
with  the  mofl:  oppofite  principles,  are  in  obfcurity  5 
in  a  word,  feeing  good  and  evil  difpenfed  in  a  man- 
ner fo  contrary  to  their  expectations,  have  their 
minds  been  often  perplexed,  and  their  refolutions 
difcouraged !  perplexity  has  degenerated  into  faintr. 
nefs  of  mind  j  and  difcouragement,  as  to  the  efficacy 
t)f  moral  virtue,  has  terminated  in  defpair. 

In  illuftration  of  this  fentiment,  I  would  refer  you 
to  the  ingenuous  confefiion  of  Afaph,  which  may  be 
Confidered  as  a  juft  defcription  of  the  human  heart, 
"  Truly,"  he  exclaims,  '*  God  is  good  to  Ifrael, 
even  to  fuch  as  are  of  a  clean  heart.  But  as  for  me, 
my  feet  were  almoft  gone  ;  my  fi:eps  had  well  nigh 
flipped.  For  I  was  envious  at  the  fooliih,  when  I 
faw  the  profperity  of  the  wicked.'*  He  afterwards 
proceeds  :  "  Behold,  thefe  are  the  ungodly,  who 
profper  in  the  world,  who  increafe  in  riches  !  Verily, 
I  have  cleanfed  my  heart  in  vain,  and  waflied  my 
hands  in  innocency.  For  all  the  day  long,  have  I 
|)een  afflicted,  and  chaftened  every  morning."    What 

langnage 


SerM.XXIL]  of  CHRIST.  255 

language  could  better  defcribe  the  weaunefs  and 
faintnefs  of  mind,  which  fome  good  men  have  experi* 
enced,  when  they  have  feen  others  enjoy  that,  which 
they  had  confidered  as  their  own  portion  ? 

Contradiction  of  fmners  is  the  only  evil  fpecili- 
ed  in  the  text :  and,  it  is  true,  nothing  is  more  dif- 
couraging  than  bafe  and  ingrateful  treatment.  But, 
from  the  obfervations  already  made,  it  appears,  that 
difcouragement,  as  to  the  profecntion  of  a  virtuous 
courfe,  may  grow  out  of  every  fpecies  of  affliclion. 
As  ingratitude  may  render  us  weary  of  doing  good  5 
repeated  injuries,  of  exerciling  forgivenefs  ;  ftudied 
infults,  of  pradiling  forbearance ;  unmerited  cenfure, 
of  deferving  well  of  the  world  ;  fo  the  infuiSciency 
of  chriftian  virtue  to  command  riches,  honour,, 
power,  health,  fame,  and,  to  fum  up  all  in  one  word, 
outward  profperity,  may  diminifli  our  reverence  of 
it,  and  our  zeal  to  walk  according  to  its  moll  facred 
and  immutable  laws.  I  would  not  be  underftood, 
that  difappointment  will  juftify,  or  even  extenuate, 
a  wearinefs  of  mind,  where  duty  is  concerned  ;  but 
that  it  is  often  produdive  of  this  undeiirable  eife<5t. 

It  is  a  doctrine  of  religion,  that  all  things  are  be- 
nevolently intended  ;  and  that  aiHi(5lions,  in  their 
feveral  kinds  and  degrees,  will  work  together  for 
good,  unlefs  it  be  our  own  fault.  The  various 
wrongs,  of  which  our  fellow-men  are  the  vifible 
caufe  ;  and  thofe  calamities,  which  proceed  more 
immediately  from  God,  are  appointed  for  the  fame 
ends,  namely,  our  improvement  in  piety  and  virtue. 
But,  that  which  is  good  in  defign,  may  become  evil 
in  effeft.  Hence,  thofe  very  trials,  v/hich,  if  they 
had  their  full  operation,  would  bring  forth  in  us  the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteoufnefs,  may  be  the  fatal 
caufe  of  alienating  our  minds  from  God  and  our 

duty. 


256  THE    PATIENCE  •      [SeRM.  XXIL 

duty,  and  may  unfit  us  for  a  Hate,  for  which  they 
were  defigned  to  prepare  us. 

Having  thus  examined  the  evil,  againft  which  wc 
are  cautioned  in  the  text,  I  now  proceed,  in  the  fec- 
ond  place,  to  tlic  remedy  which  is  there  propofed  : 
namely,  the  habitual  contemplation  of  the  Son  of 
God,  and,  more  particularly,  of  the  temper  difplayed 
by  him  during  the  whole  period  of  his  humiliation. 
"  Confider  him,"  fays  the  apoftle,  "  who  endured 
fuch  contradiclion.  of  finners  againft  himfelf.**  In  pe- 
ruling  the  hiftory  of  Chrift,  we  find  not  any  one  fa6b 
better  attefted,  than  that  which  is  taken  for  granted 
in  this  exhortation.  The  Saviour  of  the  world  was, 
indeed,  "  a  man  of  forrows,  and  acquainted  with 
grief."  And  his  fevereft  affliftions  arofe  from  the 
ingratitude  and  injuftice  of  thofe,  whom  he  came  to 
redeem  and  fave.  So  far  from  being  won  by  his 
kindnefs,  convinced  by  his  arguments,  allured  by  his 
promifes,  or  alarmed  by  his  threatenings,  they  be- 
came hardened  by  thofe  very  meafures,  which  were 
employed  to  pcrfuade  and  reclaim  them. 

When  the  great  inftrucler  of  mankind  fpake  with 
authority,  and  not  as  the  fcribes,to  many  who  heard 
him,  he  fpake  in  vain.  When  he  explained  the  law 
of  Mofes,  and  refcued  it  from  the  abfurd  comments 
of  its  boafted  teachers,  he  was  reproached  as  an  ene- 
my to  the  eftablilhed  religion.  When  he  taught 
men  juftice,  mercy,  and  the  love  of  God  ;  and  exalt- 
ed the  fubftance  of  religion  above  its  forms,  he  was 
accufed  of  impiety.  When  he  alTerted  his  divine 
miilion,  he  was  reprefented  as  a  deceiver  and  impof- 
tor  ;  and  when,  in  confirmation  of  it,  he  appealed  to 
miracles,  wonders,  and  figns,  he  was  criminated  as 
an  agent  of  fatan  ;  and  his  works  were  afcribed  to 
that  malignant  being,  who  actuates  the  children  of 

difobedience. 


SeRM.  XXII.]  OF    CHRIST.  ^^y 

difobedicnce.  When  he  revealed  the  arts  of  the 
fcribes  and  pharlfees  ;  and  fet  before  the  people  the 
many  impofitions,  which  were  practifed  on  them,  he 
made  the  former  his  implacable  enemies,  without 
rendering  the  latter  his  friends.  Hence,  when  the 
rulers  confpired,  the  people  clamoroufly  demanded 
his  deftrudion.  Nor  did  they  demand  it  in  vain  j 
for  the  Roman  governor,  overcome  by  their  impor- 
tunity, delivered  up  Jefus  to  the  inflamed  multitude, 
and  their  inveterate  rulers.  Then  did  the  innocent 
Saviour  endure  every  fpecies  of  mortification,  infult, 
and  injury,  which  his  enemies  could  invent.  I  need 
not  attempt  to  defcribe  his  cruel  mocking  and  fcourg- 
ing,  or  to  expatiate  on  the  affeding  circumftances  of 
his  execution.  The  facred  hiftorians  have  related 
his  unmerited  fufFerings  with  that  fimplicity,  which 
marks  all  their  produdions.  From  them  we  may 
learn,  that  his  fate  was  as  ignominious  as  his  life  was 
honourable  ;  that  his  death  was  as  excruciating  as 
his  temper  was  amiable,  and  his  virtue  tranfcendant ! 
With  how  much  reafon,  therefore,  is  his  exam- 
ple propofed  to  his  followers  ?  When  Pilate  brought 
him  forth,  wearing  the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the 
purple  robe,  he  faid  to  the  enemies  of  Jefus,  "  behold 
the  man.'*  But,  with  equal  propriety,  may  his 
friends  be  called  to  behold  their  divine  mafter.  If 
they  wifh  to  fee  that,  which  it  ought  to  be  their 
higheft  ambition  to  become,  they  cannot  be  more 
nobly  employed  than  in  the  contemplation  of  their 
Saviour.  Are  you  defirous  to  behold  an  example  of 
the  pureft  and  moft  fervent  devotion  ?  confider 
Chrift,  he  was  a  pattern  of  piety.  Would  you  fee 
juftice  and  benevolence  in  their  perfed  form,  and 
higheft  exercife  ?  turn  your  eyes  towards  the  friend 
of  mankind.  Would  you  contemplate  purity,  meek- 
I  i  nefs. 


25^  THE    PATIENCE  [SeRM.  XXIL 

nels,  humility,  and  an  abfolute  relignation  of  the 
will  to  that  of  our  heavenly  father  ?  behold  the  au- 
thor and  finiflier  of  your  faith.  Would  you  furvey 
the  religion  of  the  gofpel  in  all  its  fplendor  ?  confider 
him,  by  whom  it  was  firft  communicated  to  man- 
kind. What  the  Saviour  preached,  he  uniformly 
pradifed.  To  underfland  his  rules,  we  have,  there- 
fore, only  to  examine  his  life. 

But  to  one  part  of  our  Saviour's  character,  our 
attention  is  more  particularly  direfted  in  the  words 
before  us.  As  a  pattern  of  piety,  righteoufnefs,  and 
goodnefs,  his  example  is  very  inftniftive  r  but  we 
are  now  to  confider  him  as  a  pattern  of  patience 
and  forbearance.  From  the  narrative  of  his  life  and 
fufferings,  it  appears,  that  the  contradi<5lion  of  fm- 
ners  neither  provoked  revenge,  nor  difcouraged  his 
att«mpts  to  ferve  them.  The  many  (landers,  which 
were  propagated  by  his  enemies  ;  the  infults,  which 
he  perfonally  received  ;  the  oppolition,  which  he 
encountered  ;  and  the  punilhment,  to  which  he  was 
fubjefted,  excited  his  compaflion  for  the  authors,  but 
not  his  refentment.  His  memorable  prayer  on  the 
crofs,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do,"  is  a  proof,  that,  however  his  patience 
might  be  tried,  his  goodnefs  could  not  be  overcome. 

In  this  point  of  view,  his  character  may  be  con- 
templated with  iingular  advantage.  Never  fhall  we 
be  weary  or  faint  in  our  minds,  if  we  reflect  on  his 
trials,  and  the  fpirit  with  which  he  encountered 
them.  Do  we  elteem  it  an  evil  to  be  overlooked 
by  thofe,  whofe  outward  circumltances  are  more 
fplendid  than  our  own  ?  Jefus  Chrift  experienced 
the  fame  negle6t.  Are  our  charaders  defamed  ?  his 
was  moft  outrageoufly  traduced  by  the  tongue  of 
llander.     Are  our  innocent,  and  even  benevolent 

adions. 


SERM.  XXnJ  OP   CHRIST.  259 

aclions,  converted  into  crimes  ?  his  did  not  efcape 
cenfure.  When  we  mean  well,  are  the  moft  unwor- 
thy motives  and  defigns  fometimes  afcribed  to  us  ? 
how  often  did  the  Saviour  experience  this  injuftice  ? 
Do  we  ever  complain  of  ingratitude  from  thofe, 
whom  we  have  ferved  with  cheerfulnefs,  and  to  our 
own  injury  ?  how  much  greater  reafon  had  the  Son 
of  God  to  utter  this  complaint  ?  In  time  of  adver* 
fity,  have  our  friends  forfaken  us  ?  when  Chrift  was 
apprehended,  all  his  difciples  forfook  him,  and  fled. 
Are  the  treachery  of  fome,  and  the  cowardice  of 
others,  a  fource  of  mortification  to  us  ?  I  need  only 
call  over  the  names  of  Judas  and  Peter,  to  remind 
you  of  what  the  Saviour  fufFered  from  the  want  of 
firmnefs,  and  the  want  of  fincerity  in  fome  of  his 
profeffed  friends.  Are  we  often  rendered  uneafy  by 
our  fubjeclion  to  pain,  ficknefs,  and  death  ?  Jefus 
Chrift  came  into  the  world  to  fuffer  the  moft  excru- 
ciating pain,  and  ignominious  death  ;  and  he  knew 
his  deftination.  In  a  word,  do  we  efteem  it  a  hard- 
jQiip  to  facrifice  eafe,  pleafure,  or  temporal  intereft  to 
the  caufe  of  truth,  and  for  the  benefit  of  others  ? 
confider  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  ;  though  rich, 
he,  for  our  fake,  became  poor,  that  we,  through  hi§ 
poverty,  might  be  made  rich.  Our  wants,  our  miC- 
eries,  our  everlafting  interefts,  occupied  his  mind  : 
nor  did  he  decline  any  hardfhip  in  the  profecution 
of  our  falvation. 

When  we  refle<f^  on  thefe  truths,  is  it  pofllble  that 
we  ihould  complain  of  our  lot,  or  fink  under  our* 
troubles  ?  When  we  have  fuch  an  example  before 
us,  can  we  murmur  or  repine  ?  Think  of  the  con^ 
verfation,  which  pafled  between  our  Lord  and  his 
fellow-fufFerers.  One,  you  may  recoiled,  railed  on 
him,  faying,  "  if  thou  be  the  Chrift,  iave  thyfelf  an4 

us/' 


ia60  THE   PATIENCE  [[SeRM,  XXII. 

US."  The  other  rebuked  him  in  the  following  terms : 
*'  Doft  thou  not  fear  God,  feeing  thou  art  in  the 
fame  condemnation  ?  and  we,  indeed,  juftly  ;  for 
we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds  :  but  this 
man  has  done  nothing  amifs."  This  remark  would 
become  our  lips,  when  we  are  comparing  our  hu- 
miliation with  that  of  our  bleffed  mafter.  By  our 
many  ads  of  difobedience,  we  have  incurred  the  dif- 
pleafure  of  God,  and  expofed  ourfelves  to  his  judg- 
ments. It  follows,  therefore,  that  we  defcrve  the 
evils  which  we  fufFer,  They  are  the  punifhment  of 
our  fins  ;  and  are  intended  to  bring  us  to  reflection. 
But  Ghrift  was  without  fin.  He  fulfilled  all  righ- 
teoufnefs  >  and  as  a  perfedly  innocent  being,  he  re- 
ceived the  divine  approbation  by  a  voice  from  heaven. 
If,  then,  one,  with  whom  the  father  was  pleafed, 
fufFered  without  repining,  can  we,  who  are  objeds 
of  his  jufi:  difpleafure,  fliow  an  impatient  temper  ? 
Ought  not  the  convidion  of  our  guilt  to  reconcile 
us  to  our  troubles  ?  And  if  Chrifl:  endured,  with 
iirmnefs,  an  accumulation  of  evils,  fliould  we  not 
call  up  all  our  rcfolution,  left  we  Ihould  grow  weary 
and  faint  in  our  minds  ?  The  perfedion  of  his  char- 
ader,  and  the  imperfection  of  ours,  muft  enforce 
this  leffon. 

Further — ^When  we  confider  him,  who  endured 
fuch  contradidion  of  finners,  we  fhould  recollect  as 
well  the  dignity  as  the  innocence  of  the  fufferer. 
Jefus  Chrift  is  the  image  of  the  invifible  God.  But 
if  fo  great  a  perfonage,  when  defpifed,  hated,  re- 
proached, infulted,  and  malicioufly  perfecuted,  was 
patient  and  refigned,  ought  we  not  to  copy  his  tem- 
per ?  What  fays  our  Saviour  himfelf  ?  "  The  dif- 
ciple  is  not  above  his  mafl:er,  nor  the  fervant  above 
Ills  Lord.     It  is  enough  for  the  difciple,  that  he  be 

as 


SeRM.XXUJ  of   CHRIST.  t6t 

as  his  mafter,  and  the  fervant  as  his  Lord.  If  they 
have  called  the  mafter  of  the  houfe  Beelzebub,  how 
much  more  fliall  they  call  them  of  his  houfehold." 
This  reafoning  is  applicable  to  all  cafes  of  adverfity. 
The  patience  of  Chrift,  when  in  a  ftate  of  humilia- 
tion, Ihould  encourage  us  to  endure  afili<5lion  with 
firmnefs,  and  fliould  fortify  us  againft  defpair, whether 
our  miferies  arife  from  the  paflions  of  men,  or  the 
providence  of  God. 

As  an  application  of  the  fubjed:,  it  remains  to  re- 
commend to  all,  who  refped:  the  character  of  Chrift, 
the  fteady  contemplation  of  his  example.  How  can 
the  underftanding  be  more  entertained,  or  the  heart 
more  affeded,  than  in  furveying  one,  who  was  a  pat- 
tern of  moral  excellence  ?  What  is  there  lovely, 
praife-worthy,  or  of  good  report,  which  was  not  ex- 
emplified by  the  Son  of  God  ?  In  whom  were  ever 
piety  and  benevolence,  meeknefs  and  fortitude,  pu- 
rity and  juftice,  fo  glorioufly  united  ?  But,  as  a  pa- 
tient fufferer,  he  claims  your  higheft  admiration. 
Confider,  therefore,  Chrift  as  a  leader,  whom  you 
ought  to  follow,  through  trials  and  difficulties,  dan- 
gers of  every  kind,  and  difgrace.  Confider  his  pa- 
tience when  injured,  his  forbearance  when  infulted, 
his  refignation,  when  he  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head  ;  and  his  firmnefs,  when  called  to  die  for  his 
religion.  Confider  thefe  virtues  with  a  view  to  copy 
them,  when  exercifed  with  affliction,  and  tempted 
to  think  hard  of  God.  If  precepts  guide,  examples 
animate.  From  that  of  our  divine  mafter,  we  may, 
therefore,  learn  to  rejoice  in  tribulation,  and  thus  to 
verify  our  profeflions,  and  do  honour  to  the  gofpel. 

The  primitive  Chriftians  derived  ftrength  and 
courage  from  the  example  of  their  mafter.  In  imita- 
tion of  him,  they  refifted  unto  blood,  ftriving  againft 

fin. 


262  THE    RESURRECTION  [SeRM.  XXIII. 

fin.  As  they  admired,  fo  they  copied  his  firmnefs 
and  reiignation,  when  in  circumftances  fimilar  to  his. 
To  ufe  their  own  language,  they  filled  up  that  which 
was  behind  of  the  fufFerings  of  Chrift ;  and  having 
tailed  of  his  cup,  they  will  hereafter  be  glorified  with 
him. 

Let  the  fame  difpofiticn  diftinguifh  all,  who  have 
affumed  the  name  of  Chriftians.  Are  you,  at  any 
time,  in  a  ftate  of  adverfity  ?  learn  of  that  illuftrious 
fufFerer,  to  juftify  the  ways  of  God,  and  fay  with 
him,  not  our  wills,  but  thine  be  done.  Learn  of  him 
to  forgive,  and  even  to  love  your  enemies.  Learn 
of  him  to  prefer  your  duty  to  your  eafe,  your  tem- 
poral intereft,  the  favour  of  men,  and  the  greateft 
good  which  this  world  can  beftow.  Thus  intent  to 
follow  his  example,  and  to  difplay  his  temper,  you 
will  be  prepared  for  that  fuperior  ftate,  where  im- 
mortal happinefs  will  reward  thofe,  who  have  neither 
defpifed  the  chaftening  of  the  Lord,  nor  fainted 
when  rebuked  of  him. 

fe'etmon  xxiii. 


On  the  Refurreflion  of  the  Dead, 
Acts  xxvi.  8. 

•"  WHY  SHOULD  IT  BE  THOUGHT  A  THING  INCREDIBLE 
WITH  YOU,  THAT  GOD  SHOULD  RAISE  THE  DEAD  ?** 

THIS  queftion  was  propofed  to  Agrippa,  before 
whom  St.  Paul  was  making  his  defence.  Among 
the  Jews,  there  were  fome  who  admitted,  and  others 

who 


SeRM.  XXIII.]  OF    THE    DEAD.  263 

who  denied,  the  do6trine  of  a  refurreftion.  The 
pharifees  maintained  this  point  with  great  zeal,  ef- 
teeming  it  the  only  ground  of  their  future  expecta- 
tions. The  fadducees,  on  the  other  hand,  were  in- 
fidels in  regard  to  this  article  ;  and  declared,  that,  in 
their  view,  it  was  incredible  that  God  fhould  raife 
the  dead.  To  which  of  thefe  feds  Agrippa  belonged, 
it  is  not  eafy  to  determine  from  the  context.  But  I 
think  it  highly  probable  that  he  was  a  fadducee,  as 
the  Herodian  family  were  generally  of  that  denomi- 
nation. Men  of  their  ambitious  principles  and  im- 
moral lives,  would  naturally  embrace  a  fyftem,  which 
removed  the  moft  powerful  reftraint  from  the  hu- 
man mind ;  and  flattered  the  worft  men  with  the 
hopes  of  impunity.  This  extraordinary  feci  derived 
its  name  from  Sadoc,  a  celebrated  teacher  in  the  Jew- 
ilh  fchools.  The  original  doctrine  was  nothing  more 
than  this,  that  to  ferve  God  with  a  view  to  any  fu- 
ture reward,  is  mean  and  felfifh.  Rejecting,  there- 
fore, heaven  and  happinefs,  as  motives  to  obedience, 
they  finally  rejefted  them  from  their  creed.  And  at 
the  time,  when  the  apoftle  uttered  this  difcourfe,  the 
difciples  of  Sadoc  were  fully  confirmed  in  this  fenti- 
ment,  that  the  exiftence  of  angels  and  fpirits  is  the 
delufion  of  fancy ;  and  that  God  himfetf  could  not 
raife  the  dead.  In  oppofition  to  this  opinion,  the 
apoftle  makes  the  inquiry  in  the  text.  He  afks,  why 
it  fliould  be  thought  incredible,  that  a  being,  poflelTed 
of  fuch  powers  as  the  Deity,  Ihould  be  able  to  re- 
cover a  dead  body  from  the  grave  ;  and  to  rekindle 
the  fpark  of  life. 

And  it  appears  to  me,  that  this  is  a  queftion  of 
infinite  importance.  For  if  there  be  no  refurredion, 
then  it  follows  that  Chrift  has  not  rifen  :  and  if 
Chrift  be  not  rifen,  then  every  hope  of  futurity  is 

extinguiflied. 


2^4  THE    RESURRECTION  [SeRM.  XXIII. 

cxtinguiflied.  Before  us  is  the  dreary  profpe6l  of 
utter  deftru6lion  ;  and  our  friends,  who  have  fallen 
afleep,  are  to  awake  no  more.  If  we  give  up  the 
refurredion,  there  is  nothing  to  fupport  our  fs>'pecl- 
ations  of  a  future  exiftence.  From  the  metaphyfical 
nature  of  the  foul,  we  can  argue  nothing  fatisfaciory. 
And  the  conclufion,  drawn  from  the  diforders  of  this 
prefent  ftate,  will  not  bear  a  rigid  examination.  If 
we  hope  to  exift  hereafter,  we  muft  build  that  hope 
upon  the  dodrine  of  a  refurredion.  The  queftion 
then  is,  has  God  promifed  to  raife  the  dead  ;  and  is 
he  able  to  do  it  ?  Are  his  powers  adequate  to  fuch 
an  efFed  ?  Or,  Is  there  fomething  in  the  reftoration 
of  dead  perfons  to  life,  which  militates  with  the  per- 
fections of  his  nature*  or  implies  a  contradidion  ? 
Thefe  are  inquiries,  which  concern  every  one  prefent. 
And  as  they  ftiall  be  determined,  fo  may  we  con- 
template the  grave  with  horror,  or  with  fatisfacHon, 

That  we  may  be  able,  therefore,  to  form  juft 
ideas  of  this  fubje^l,  I  fhall,  firft,  confider  the  chrif- 
tian  dodrine  of  a  refurredion.       And, 

Secondly — I  fliall  inquire,  whether  there  be  any 
thing  in  nature  to  render  this  dodrine  incredible. 

First — The  dodrine  of  a  refurredion,  as  revealed 
in  the  gofpel,  defer ves  confideration.  It  is  not  af- 
ferted  by  the  chriftian  writers,  that  precifely  the 
fame  body,  which  is  laid  in  the  duft,  fhall  be  raifed 
at  the  laft  day.  During  its  animation,  the  body  is 
fubjed  to  continual  changes.  And  it  is  afferted  by 
thofe,  who  have  ftudied  the  human  frame,  that  an 
entire  fucceffion  of  new  particles  takes  place  at  ftated 
periods.  We  know  that  the  bodies,  which  we  now 
have,  arc  very  different  from  thofe,  which  we  brought 
with  us  into  the  world.  It  is,  therefore,  conceivable, 
that  the  refurreclion-body  may  eifentially  differ  from 

the 


SeRM^XXIIIJ  01'    THE    DEAD.  26$ 

the  human  ftruclure,  as  it  now  ftands.  Something, 
which  enters  into  our  prefent  compofition,  will  cer- 
tainly be  raifed.  But  to  fuppofe  that  the  fame  par- 
ticles, which  were  deranged  by  death,  will  be  col- 
lected from  the  dufl  ;  and  that  they  will  conftitute 
our  heavenly  body,  is  an  extravagance  too  great  for 
any  rational  Chriftian. 

The  apoftle  Paul  has  largely  difcufled  the  fubje<ft 
of  a  refurredion.     In  one  of  his  fublimeft  produc- 
tions, he  compares  the  mortal  body  to  a  feed  of 
wheat.     And  he  intimates,  that  the  body,  which  fliall 
hereafter  be,  will  differ  as  much  from  this  body,  as 
the  fpringing  blade  from  the  feed  committed  to  the 
ground.     He,  moreover,  goes  on  to  fay,  that  there  is 
a  natural,  and  a  fpiritual  body.     And  becaufe  flefli 
and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God,  he 
folemnly  declares,  that  no  fuch  perifhable  materials 
fliall  enter  into  our  celeftial  frame  ;  but  that  it  fliall 
be  fublimed  to  a  ftate  worthy  an  immortal  reiident. 
"  It  is  fown,"  fays  he,  "  in  corruption  ;  it  is  raifed  ia 
incorruption  :  it  is  fown  in  diflionour  ;  it  is  raifed  in 
glory :  it  is  fown  in  weaknefs  ;  it  is  raifed  in  power.** 
In  another  place,  he  fpeaks  of  it  as  "  fafliioned  like 
to  our  Saviour's  glorious  body."     And  borrowing 
the  idea  from  his  profeffion,  as  a  tent-maker,  St. 
Paul  elfewhere  obferves,   "  we  know,  that  if  our 
earthly  houfe  of  this  tabernacle  were  dilTolved,  we 
have  a  building  of  God,  a  houfe  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.'*     From  thefe  paiTages 
it  appears,  that  the  common,  and,  I  may  fay,  grofs 
ideas  of  a  refurreclion,  have  no  foundation  in  the  fa- 
cred  volume.     It  is  not  a  doclrine  of  the  gofpel,  that 
the  tomb  will  give  up  every  particle  of  duft,  which 
has  been  treafured  in  it.     What  we  learn  from  the 
infpired  pages  is  this,  that  every  one,  who  has,  or 
K  k  may 


266  THE    RESURRECTION  [SeRM.  XXIII. 

may  hereafter,  yield  to  the  ftroke  of  death,  fhall  be 
raifed  from  the  dead.  And  as  to  the  body,  with 
which  he  fliall  come  forth,  it  will  be  fuch  as  infinite 
wifdom  has  prepared  for  him  ;  and  will  be  accom- 
modated to  his  future  condition.  There  will  be  fuf- 
ficient  of  the  whole  man  to  conftitute  identity.  And 
the  diftinclion  of  a  refurredion,  and  a  new  creation, 
will  be  facredly  preferved. 

These  remarks,  I  thought  it  neceflary  to  make, 
before  I  proceeded  to  the  inquiry  in  the  text.  We 
muft  know  what  a  doctrine  is,  before  we  can  deter- 
mine, with  refpecl  to  its  credibility.  And  as  to  that 
of  the  refurredion,  before  we  advance  one  ftep,  the 
terms  fliould  be  well  defined.  It  has  been  the  fate 
of  this  doctrine  to  be  mifreprefented,  both  by  friends 
and  foes.  Some  of  the  former  have  expofed  it  to 
contempt,  by  defcribing  the  confufion  of  the  great 
day,  when  every  fcattered  limb,  and  even  particle 
of  duft,  fliould  rufli  into  its  place.  And  the  latter 
have  inquired,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  how  an  exa6l 
diftribution  can  be  made,  when  different  fpirits  may 
poflibly  lay  claim  to  the  fame  body  ?  In  confequence 
of  the  various  revolutions,  to  which  matter  is  liable, 
they  maintain,  that  the  fame  particles  may  enter  into 
the  fubftance  of  more  than  one  human  frame. — 
Whofe,  then,  fliall  they  be,  at  the  great  day  ?  But 
to  thefe  queries,  no  Chriftian  is  obliged  to  furnifli 
an  anfwer.  They  proceed  upon  falfe  principles,  and 
wrong  views  of  a  refurredion.  Confequently,  that 
dodrine,  as  fl;ated  in  the  gofpel,  is  not  difcredited  by 
thefe  objedions. 

The  point,  and  the  only  one  before  us,  is,  whether 
it  be  within  the  compafs  of  divine  power  to  recal 
the  dead  to  life.  It  is  certain,  that  we,  who  live, 
move,  and  h^ve  our  being  on  this  earth,  fliall  return 

to 


Serm.  XXIIL]  of  the  dead.  ^5; 

to  the  duft.  Sooner  or  later,  the  fentence  of  death 
will  be  executed  upon  us.  The  queftion,  therefore, 
is  fimply  this,  is  the  fentence  of  death  irreverfible  ? 
Does  it  exceed  the  power  of  God  to  caufe  thofe  to 
live,  who  had  been  dead  ?  Or  would  fuch  an  exer- 
tion of  his  almighty  power,  be  inconfiftent  with  the 
perfections  of  his  nature  ?  To  determine  this  point, 
was  the  fecond  thing  propofed  in  this  difcourfe. 

If  it  be  incredible  that  God  fhould  raife  the  dead, 
it  muft  be  on  one  or  other  of  thefe  accounts  :  either 
that  a  refurreclion  is  in  itfelf  impoflible  ;  or  that  it 
would  be  an  unfuitable  exertion  of  power  on  the 
part  of  the  great  God.  Though  the  fupreme  being 
is  omnipotent,  yet  it  is  acknowledged,  that  he  can- 
not work  contradiclions.  And  it  is  abfolutely  cer- 
tain, that  infinite  redlitude  cannot  do  wrong.  To 
one  or  the  other  of  thefe  fuppofitions,  we  muft, 
therefore,  be  reduced,  that  God  can  not,  or  that  he 
ought  not,  to  raife  the  dead. 

But  who  will  undertake  to  fupport  either  of  thefe 
pofitions  ?  Who  will  prefume  to  fay,  that  God  can- 
not redeem  his  creatures  from  the  grave  ?  If  this  be 
a  truth,  a  deficiency  of  wifdom,  or  a  deficiency  of 
power,  muft  limit  his  operations.  But  it  is  demon- 
ftrable,  that  God  is  infinitely  wife.  Every  poflible 
effect  muft  be  an  object  of  his  contemplation.  He 
muft  know  how  to  accomplifti  every  thing,  of  which 
his  own  infinite  mind  can  form  the  idea.  The 
means,  therefore,  by  which  thofe,  who  fleep  in  the 
grave,  may  be  recovered  to  life  and  action,  muft  be 
obvious  to  God.  We  might  as  well  deny  his  exift- 
ence,  as  deny  his  acquaintance  with  all  caufes  and 
effects  ;  and  particularly,  an  effect  fo  conceivable  as 
that  o(  a  refurre6tion. 

As  to  man,  the  exertion  of  his  powers  is  often  im^ 

peded 


358  rHB   RESURRECTION  [SeRM.  XXIII, 

peded  by  his  ignorance.  He  may  not  know  how  to 
employ  the  abilities  which  God  has  given  him.  But 
fuch  a  fuggeftion  would  be  the  height  of  impiety,  if 
referred  to  God.  He,  who  had  fufficient  wifdom  to 
form  the  human  body,  and  to  infpire  it  with  life, 
muft  know  how  to  revive  it  at  a  future  day.  The 
degree  of  wifdom,  requifite  to  this  end,  cannot  ex- 
ceed that  difplayed  in  our  creation.  If  God  knew 
how  to  make  man,  he  muft  know  how  to  reftore 
him.  We  cannot,  then,  argue  the  incredibility  of  a 
refurredion,  from  any  deficiency  of  wifdom  in  the 
great  agent.  That  God  is  infinitely  wife,  all  nature 
cries  aloud.  Every  world  which  rolls  over  our  heads, 
the  earth  on  which  we  dwell,  and  every  thing  which 
we  behold,  proclaim  this  truth.  If,  therefore,  the 
whole  fabrick  of  nature  be  a  production  of  God,  the 
Hvifdom,  equal  to  fuch  an  eifecft,  muft  be  adequate  to 
our  refurreclion, 

And  the  fame  arguments,  which  eftablifli  the  in- 
finite wifdom  of  our  maker,  muft,  likewife,  eftablifli 
liis  omnipotence.  Power  is  an  eflential  attribute  of 
the  Deity  j  and  that  power  muft  extend  to  every 
thing,  which  does  not  imply  a  contradiction.  "  Is 
any  thing  too  hard  for  the  Lord  ?"  are  the  words  of 
God  himfelf.  And  we  may  reply,  that  nothing  can 
be  too  hard  for  him,  which  comes  within  the  bounds 
of  pofiibility.  To  fay  that  it  cannot  work  contradic- 
tions, is  no  reflexion  on  omnipotence. 

Of  the  power  of  God,  we  behold  innumerable 
proofs,  wherever  we  turn  our  eyes.  The  things, 
which  are  made,  are  an  everlafting  monument  of  it. 
Even  our  own  perfons  are  a  demonftration,  not  only 
of  the  wifdom,  but  the  power  of  their  author.  But 
is  it  conceivable,  that  God  fliould  be  able  to  create, 
s^nd  not  to  reftore  ?    Is  the  refurredlion  of  man  a 

greater 


Sbrm.  XXIII.]  of  the  dead.  26^ 

greater  work  than  his  original  production  ?  Whilft 
we  admit,  that  the  power  of  God  is  equal  to  fuch 
aftoniihing  efFeds  as  the  creation,  and  prefervatioa 
of  the  univerfe,  can  we  hefitate  to  pronounce  the  re- 
covery of  man  from  a  ftate  of  death  within  the  com- 
pafs  of  that  power  ?  If  the  refurreclion  be  incred- 
ible, I  think  you  muft  admit,  that  this  does  not  arife 
from  the  want  of  ability,  on  the  part  of  God,  equal 
to  the  reanimation  of  the  whole  human  kind. 

We  are  reduced,  then,  to  this  fuppohtion,  that  the 
refurredion  of  the  dead  is  a  vain  expectation,  becaufe 
the  author  of  our  being  could  not  confiftently  reverfe 
the  fentence  of  death*  But  which,  of  all  the  divine 
perfections,  forbids  fuch  a  difplay  of  wifdom  and 
power  ?  Would  it  contradict  the  veracity  of  God  ? 
By  no  means  :  for  God  has  never  declared  that  the 
dead  fliall  rife  no  more.  So  far  from  it,  he  has  en- 
couraged us  with  the  alTurance,  that  death  fhall  be 
fwallowed  up  in  victory.  Would  it  impeach  his  juft- 
ice  ?  That  cannot  be  pretended  :  for  in  no  view 
whatever,  can  the  rights  claimed  by  man,  be  in- 
fringed by  his  refurre6tion.  Would  it  be  contrary 
to  the  mercy  and  goodnefs  of  God,  contrary  to  that 
confiftency  of  charader,  which  an  infinitely  perfect 
being  would  naturally  fupport  ?  No  :  unlefs  the  cre- 
ation of  man  be  admitted  as  a  like  objection.  If  it 
accord  with  the  divine  perfections,  that  the  human 
fpecies  fhould  come  into  exiftence  ;  that  they  fhould 
exift  with  various  powers  and  capacities  ;  and  go 
through  various  changes  previous  to  death  ;  it  can* 
not  be  a  contradiction  to  thofe  perfedions,  that  they 
fiiould  revive  hereafter,  and  experience  new  changes, 
according  to  their  moral  capacity  for  happinefs.  Af- 
ter viewing  the  fubject  on  all  fides,  I  muft  freely  fay, 
that  I  can  difcover  nothing  in  the  dodrine  of  a  re- 

furrection. 


ayo  THE   RESURRECTION  [SeRM.  XXIIL 

furredlon,  inconfiftent  with  the  charad:er  of  God, 
or  the  meafures  of  his  government.  It  is  as  conceiv- 
able that  God  fhould  reftore  life,  as  that  he  fliould 
make  the  original  communication.  In  anfwer,  then, 
to  the  inquiry  in  the  text,  I  would  reply,  "  it  is  not 
incredible  that  God  fliould  raife  the  dead." 

But,  in  confequence  of  the  chriftian  revelation, 
we  may  proceed  ftill  farther  :  we  may  aifert,  that  it 
is  morally  certain,  that  if  a  man  die,  he  will  live 
again.  There  are  inftances  of  an  actual  refurreftion. 
The  author  of  our  religion  reftored  a  child  to  the 
arms  of  a  parent  ;  and  recalled  a  friend,  who  had 
been  four  days  in  the  grave.  And  after  he  had  fuf- 
fered  the  pains  of  an  infamous  execution,  he  refumed 
the  life,  againft  which  his  enemies  had  confpired. 
Thefe  are  fads,  not  handed  down  by  tradition,  but 
preferved  by  the  faithful  records  of  eye-witneffes. 
And  our  affent  to  them  ftands  upon  the  fame  found- 
ation with  our  affent  to  any  article  whatever,  pre- 
ferved by  the  hiftorian.  If  any  credit  be  due  to  tef- 
timony,  it  is  due  to  that  of  the  evangelifts.  They 
lived  at  the  period,  in  which  the  extraordinary 
things,  related  by  them,  took  place.  Two  of  them 
were  fpeclators  ;  and  two  received  their  accounts 
from  thofe,  who  had  converfed  with  our  Saviour  af- 
ter his  refurreclion.  Having,  therefore,  the  beft 
means  of  information,  and  having  no  conceivable 
interefl:  in  propagating  a  falfehood,  it  is  nothing  more 
than  common  juftice  to  admit  their  credibility  as 
witneffes.  Upon  grounds  lefs  liable  than  thefe,  we 
affent  to  other  hiftorical  fads.  How,  then,  can  we 
rejed  the  refurreftion  either  of  Lazarus  or  Jefus,  as 
an  impolition  on  the  credulity  of  mankind  ? 

Difficulties  may  be  raifed  on  every  fubjed ;  and 
objections  may  be  made  to  every  fad,  of  which  we 

were 


SeRM.  XXIII.]  OF    THE    DEAD.  ^y\ 

were  not  eye-witneffes.  The  great  revolutions,  which 
have  taken  place  on  this  earth,  may  be  plaufibly  op- 
pofed :  and  at  our  diftance  from  the  fcene  of  confu- 
iion  and  bloodfhed,  we  may  urge  many  fpecious  ob- 
jedlions  againft  the  political  events,  and  violences, 
which  have  grown  out  of  the  prefent  ilruggle  for 
freedom.  Still,  however,  one  competent  witnefs  out- 
weighs all  fuch  objections  :  and  many  competent 
witneffes  bear  united  teftimony  to  thefe  fad:s,  that 
Chrift  raifed  others,  and  finally  rofe  himfelf.  Unlefs, 
therefore,  we  mean  to  rejedl  all  evidence,  but  that  of 
our  own  fenfes,  I  fee  not  how  we  can  withhold  our 
affent  from  the  doctrine  of  an  actual  refurrection. 

But  if  Chrift  be  rifen,  then  we  can  have  no  doubt 
that  we  fliall  live  alfo  :  his  refurrection  eftabliflies 
the  authority  of  the  gofpel.  And  it  is  a  leading  doc- 
trine of  his  gofpel,  that  all,  who  are  in  their  graves, 
will  hear  his  voice,  and  come  forth.  In  various 
places,  this  moft  interefting  truth  is  proclaimed  to 
mankind.  But  in  the  epiftle  to  the  Corinthians,  St. 
Paul  has  exerted  all  his  eloquence,  and  all  his  powers 
of  argument,  to  fet  it  in  fuch  a  light  as  fhould  fatisfy 
the  human  mind,  and  influence  our  actions.  For 
thefe  reafons,  the  facred  volume  is  faid  to  have 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light.  Not  that 
mankind,  previous  to  the  gofpel,  had  no  idea  of  a 
future  exiftence  ;  not  that  the  Jews  were  wholly  ig- 
norant of  a  refurrection  :  neither  of  thefe  can  be  ad- 
mitted as  facts.  The  pharifees,  it  is  certain,  main- 
tained tliis  doctrine  in  oppoiition  to  the  fadducees. 
And  in  the  writings  of  the  Heathen,  we  meet  with 
many  flowery  defcriptions  of  the  future  refidence, 
and  exquifite  delights  of  good  men.  But  if  life  and 
immortality  did  not  originate  with  the  gofpel,  they 
received  gf eat  light  from  that  fource.  The  only  ra- 
tional 


272  THE    RESURRECTION  [SfRM.  XXIIl, 

tional  and  confiftent  account  of  them,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  chriftian  oracles.  There  only  is  the  dodrine 
explicitly  revealed.  And  the  refurreftion  of  our 
bleffed  Saviour  being  circumftantially  defcribed  in 
the  gofpel,  and  uniformly  reprefented  as  an  earneft 
of  our  own,  it  may  be  admitted,  that  the  difcovery 
of  life  and  immortality  was  referved  to  fignalize  that 
difpenfation. 

With  what  fentiments  of  gratitude,  ought  we, 
therefore,  to  regard  the  bleffed  God,  through  whofe 
tender  mercy  the  day-fpring  from  on  high  hath 
vilited  us  ?  What  an  unfpeakable  privilege  to  have 
our  doubts  and  fears  removed,  and  our  conjectures 
turned  into  certainty  ?  To  us,  it  is  not  incredible 
that  God  fhould  raife  the  dead.  We  are  affured, 
that  he  has  power  to  accomplifh  our  refurreclion  ; 
and  wifdom  to  dired  that  power.  We  know  that 
he  has  already  fhown  wonders  in  the  grave.  And 
we  have  the  fatisfaclion  to  reflect,  that  becaufe  the 
Saviour  lives,  we  fliall  live  aifo.  Let  us,  then,  be  un- 
feignedly  thankful,  that  our  exiftence  is  not  bounded 
by  this  tranfitory  Hate.  Let  us  blefs  the  God  and 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jefus,  who,  of  his  abundant  mer- 
cy, hath  begotten  us  to  this  lively  hope.  And  among 
the  highefl  enjoyments,  of  which  our  prefent  condi- 
tion is  capable,  let  us  rank  the  delightful  expectation 
of  "an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  which 
fadeth  not  away." 

Knowing  that  our  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  his 
refurre6tion  is  an  earneft  of  ours,  let  us  habituate 
ourfelves  to  confider  this  ftate  as  but  an  introduction 
to  a  better.  If  we  had  nothing  to  hope  beyond  the 
grave,  we  might  reafonably  fet  our  affections  on 
things  below.  Upon  this  fuppolition,  we  might  fay 
with  the  followers  of  Epicurus,  "let  us  eat  and 

drink, 


Serm.  XXUL]  of  the  dead.  273 

drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die."  Or,  with  the  infidel 
in  the  book  of  Ecclefiaftes,  we  might  declaim,  "  all  is 
vanity :  that  which  befalleth  the  fons  of  men,  befall- 
eth  the  beafts,  even  one  thing  befalleth  them.  As 
the  one  dieth,  fo  dieth  the  other  :  yea,  they  have  all 
one  breath  ;  fo  that  man  hath  no  pre-eminence  above 
a  beaft.  All  go  into  one  place  ;  all  are  of  the  duft, 
and  all  turn  to  duft  again.**  But,  blefled  be  God,  a 
better  hope  is  infpired  by  the  gofpel.  In  the  view  of 
a  Chriftian,  death  is  not  deftrudion.  He  confiders 
it  merely  as  a  change  ;  and  a  change  to  the  infinite 
advantage  of  thofe,  who  have  fo  numbered  their 
days,  as  to  apply  their  hearts  unto  wifdom.  With 
this  perfuafion,  he  can  rejoice  as  though  he  rejoiced 
not  ;  weep  as  though  he  wept  not  ;  buy  as  though 
he  pofTeffed  not ;  and  ufe  this  world  as  not  abufing  it. 
Finally — Let  the  affurance  of  a  refurrediion  ex- 
cite us  to  prepare  for  it,  by  a  diligent  application  of 
our  beft  powers  to  the  duties  of  Chriftianity  ;  and 
by  a  conftant  endeavour  to  live  foberly  and  pioufly 
in  the  world.  We  read  of  a  refurredion,  both  of 
the  juft  and  of  the  unjuft.  And  both  reafon  and  the 
gofpel  alTure  us,  that  our  temper  and  behaviour,  in 
this  ftate  of  moral  difcipline,  muft  determine  our 
condition,  when  recalled  from  the  grave.  If  we  have 
performed  the  chriftian  duties,  have  cherifhed  the 
chriftian  faith,  and  difplayed  the  chriftian  charafter, 
our  refurreclion  will  be  glorious  and  happy.  Over 
us,  the  fecond  death  will  have  no  power.  Like  the 
angels  of  God,  we  fliall  die  no  more  ;  but  mortality 
will  be  fwallowed  up  of  life  !  Let  this  convidion 
raife  us  above  the  low  purfuits  of  time  and  fenfe, 
and  excite  us  to  have  our  converfation  in  heaven. 
Let  it  enforce  the  laws  of  our  blefled  mafter  ;  and 
give  weight  to  every  admonition  and  reproof  con- 
L 1  tained 


274  ^N    SINCERITY.  [SeRM.  XXIV. 

tained  In  the  gofpeL  And  let  it  henceforth  be  our 
refolution,  to  fufFer  no  earthly  concern  to  interfere 
with  our  virtuous  exertions,  or  to  retard  our  pro- 
grefs  towards  the  heavenly  world.  Thus  faithful 
unto  death,  we  Ihall  awake  and  fing  with  thofe  who 
now  fleep  in  the  duft  ;  and  our  piety  will  be  re- 
warded v/ith  a  glorious  refurreclion. 


mnmn  xxiv. 


^. 


On  Sincerity. 
Philippians  I.  lO. 

"  THAT    YE    MAY   BE    SINCERE,    AND    WITHOUT    OF- 
FENCE,   TILL    THE  DAY    OF    CHRIST." 

IF  we  examine  the  fpirit  and  laws  of  the  gofpel, 
we  fhall  find,  that  too  much  ftrefs  cannot  be  laid 
on  limplicity  and  iincerity  ;  and  that  too  much  care 
cannot  be  taken  to  cultivate  thefe  virtues.  It  was 
the  recommendation  of  Nathaniel,  that  "  he  was  an 
Ifraelite  indeed,  in  whom  there  was  no  guile."  This 
Ihort,  but  comprehenlive  eulogy,  was  pronounced  by 
the  lips  of  our  blefied  Saviour.  We  may,  therefore, 
conclude,  that  Iincerity  is  a  virtue,  which  he  held  in 
high  eftimation  :  and  we  ihall  be  confirmed  in  this 
idea,  if  we  advert  to  his  pure  example. 

But,  as  the  infpired  followers  of  our  divine  Lord 
taught  his  dodrines,  fo  they  inculcated  his  moral 
lelTons.  Truth  and  righteoufnefs,  fimplicity  and  Iin- 
cerity, were  fet  forth,  in  all  their  charms,  by  the 

apoiiles. 


Serm.XXIV.]  on  sincerity.  iy^ 

apoftles.  St.  Paul,  in  particular,  thought  it  an  indif- 
penfable  duty  to  recommend  thefe  virtues  to  the 
chriftian  converts.  Accordingly,  writing  to  the 
Philippians,  he  admonifhes  them  to  be  fmcere,  and 
without  offence.  And  to  enforce  his  admonition,  h^ 
reminds  them  of  the  day  of  Chrift,  when  all  hearts 
would  be  laid  open,  and  every  motive  of  human  con- 
dud  would  be  expofed. 

In  the  following  difcourfe,  it  is  my  defign  to  con- 
fider  fincerity  in  the  moft  extenfive  fenfe  of  the  word, 
and  to  fay  what  may  be  neceflary  to  its  recommend- 
ation. 

Sincerity  may  be  confidered  in  two  points  of 
view,  as  it  refpedls  our  maker,  and  our  fellow-men. 
Let  us  examine  it  in  each  of  thefe  relations.  Firft, 
as  it  relates  to  God,  lincerity  implies,  that  we  feel 
the  reverence,  the  love,  the  gratitude,  the  contrition, 
the  fervent  devotion,  and  earneft  defire  to  honour 
and  pleafe  him,  which  we  folemnly  profefs.  The 
heart  and  tongue  of  the  hypocrite  are  always  at 
variance  :  but  the  man  of  lincerity  does  not  fpeak. 
one  thing,  and  mean  another.  If  he  profeffes  to  be- 
lieve in  the  being,  providence,  and  righteous  gov- 
ernment of  a  God,  he  really  entertains  a  firm  perfua- 
iion  of  thefe  important  truths.  If  he  profeffes  to 
fear  God,  the  principle  itfelf  has  an  exiftence  in  his 
heart.  If  he  profeffes  to  love  him,  his  love  is  with- 
out diffimulation.  When  he  acknowledges  the  di- 
vine favours,  he  is  actuated  by  a  lively  gratitude  to 
the  author  of  all  good.  And  he  is  truly  humbled 
and  penitent,  when  he  confeffes  his  fins.  When  he 
afks  forgivenefs,  it  is  his  earneft  defire  to  be  forgiven. 
And  when  he  promifes  amendment,  his  heart  con- 
firms what  his  lips  proclaim.  Every  outward  ex- 
prefiion  of  piety  is  the  genuine  offspring  of  a  heart 
light  with  God.  The 


37^  ON  SINCERITY*  [SeRM.  XXIV. 

The  hypocrite,  from  motives  of  policy,  or  intereft, 
affumes  a  ferious  countenance  ;  but  the  man  of  fin- 
cerity  feels  ferious.  The  one  prays  to  be  feen  of 
men,  the  other  to  be  heard  of  God.  The  one  ob- 
ferves  the  public  inftitutions  of  religion  from  a  re- 
gard to  appearances  ;  the  other  from  a  regard  to  the 
great  object  of  worfhip,  and  a  convidion  of  duty. 
In  all  things  of  a  ferious  concern,  the  hypocrite  is 
governed  by  what  he  efteems  politic  ;  the  man  of 
fincerity  by  that,  which  he  knows  to  be  right. 

But  that  you  may  have  an  adequate  idea  of  this 
virtue,  as  it  more  immediately  refpeds  the  divine 
being,  I  would  afk  your  attention  to  the  following 
particulars,  Firft,  that  piety  is  fincere,  which  dif. 
pofes  men  to  be  as  attentive  to  the  private  duties  of 
religion,  as  to  thofe  of  a  public  nature.  He,  who  is 
devout,  where  there  is  no  witnefs  but  God,  cannot 
be  aduated  by  any  unworthy  motives.  In  the  houfe 
of  God,  there  may  be  the  form  without  the  fpirit  of 
devotion.  But,  in  his  place  of  retirement,  it  is  in- 
conceivable that  any  man  fliould  pray,  without  feel- 
ing devout  ;  that  he  ftiould  give  thanks  without 
gratitude  ;  confefs  without  contrition  ;  or  promife 
obedience,  without  an  intention  to  perform.  Before 
him  only,  who  feeth  in  fecret,  there  could  be  no  in- 
ducement to  engage  in  thefe  religious  offices,  but  a 
convidion  (3f  their  propriety.  When,  therefore,  men 
are  as  fervent  in  their  private  as  public  devotions ; 
when  they  treat  God  with  the  fame  refped  in  their 
clofet,  as  in  his  courts,  we  have  reafon  to  think  that 
their  piety  is  not  a  pretence. 

In  forming  a  judgment  of  human  charaders,  it  is 
highly  proper  to  inquire,  how  a  man  would  condud 
in  fome  particular  inftance,  when  he  fuppofed  there 
W^  HO  eye  upon  him  but  that  of  his  maker.     Could 

you 


i 


Serm.XXIVO         on  sincerity.  ^7^ 

you  doubt  of  his  charity,  if  you  found  that  he  was  as 
bountiful  to  the  poor  in  fecret  as  in  public  ?  If  he 
performed  his  promifes,  when  there  was  no  law  to 
compel  him,  or  no  human  witnefs  of  his  engagements, 
fliould  you  queftion  his  integrity  ?  Or  could  you 
entertain  a  fufpicion  of  his  gratitude,  when  he  more 
than  repaid  a  benefactor  ;  but,  at  the  fame  time,  did 
it  in  fuch  a  private  manner,  that  there  could  be  no 
expeftation,  on  his  part,  that  the  deed  would  ever 
come  to  light  ?  Moft  certainly,  alms  fo  bellowed, 
promifes  fo  performed,  and  fuch  returns  for  favours 
received,  would  be  interpreted  as  an  inconteftable 
proof  of  fincerity. 

But  the  fame  reafoning  will  apply  in  the  cafe  be- 
fore us.  If  he,  who  gives  fecretly,  may  be  fuppofed 
to  give  lincerely,  he,  who  prays  to  God  in  fecret, 
may  be  fuppofed  to  pray  from  right  motives.  His 
folemn  addreffes,  his  humble  confeflions,  his  grateful 
acknowledgments,  muft  all  proceed  from  a  ftate  of 
mind,  that  would  bear  to  be  expofed.  To  judge  of 
your  own  fmcerity,  you  have,  therefore,  ferioufly  to 
examine,  whether  you  are  as  religious  in  fecret,  as 
in  the  view  of  the  world.  Perhaps,  your  fellow-men 
have  no  reafon  to  charge  you  with  delinquency ; 
have  you  no  reafon  to  accufe  yourfelves  ?  This  is  a 
point,  which  you  muft  afcertain  by  a  rigid  fcrutiny 
of  your  private  life.  You  muft  inquire  what  takes 
place,  when  the  world  is  fhut  out,  and  you  are  con- 
fcious  of  no  prefence  but  that  of  your  maker.  And 
if  your  homage  be  equally  refpeftful  at  all  times,  and 
in  all  places,  you  may  rely,  that  it  is  the  homage  of 
the  heart.  So  far  as  piety  is  concerned,  if  you  are 
the  lame  perfon  in  the  world,  and  retired  from  it, 
you  will  give  no  juft  ground  of  fufpicion  to  others, 
nor  can  you  reafonably  fufped  yourfelves. 

A  CHEERFUL 


27*  ON  SINCERITY.  [SeRM.  XXIV. 

A  CHEERFUL  obedience  to  the  laws  of  God  is  a 
fecond  proof  of  religious  fincerity.  If  we  love  God, 
we  fhall  certainly  keep  his  commandments.  It  is 
impoflible  to  reconcile  a  wicked  life  with  a  reverence 
of  the  divine  character,  or  a  grateful  fenfe  of  the 
divine  favours.  Where  there  is  an  ardent  afFedion 
for  the  fupreme  being,  there  will  be  a  conftant  en- 
deavour to  do  thofe  things,  which  are  plealing  in 
his  fight.  Obedience  to  earthly  parents  is  one  fruit 
of  filial  piety.  And  why  fhould  not  obedience  to 
God  flow  from  a  principle  of  love  to  him  ? 

But,  if  from  the  certainty  of  fear,  gratitude,  and 
love  to  God,  we  ftiould  infer  the  certainty  of  obe- 
dience, moft  alTuredly,  from  a  courfe  of  obedience, 
we  may  infer  the  exiftence  of  thofe  principles.  The 
argument,  in  this  view,  is  as  conclufive  as  in  the  other. 
A  cheerful  fubmiffion  to  the  authority  of  God,  muft  be 
the  confequence  of  right  affedions  towards  him.  If 
the  fruit  be  good,  the  tree  muft  be  good.  You  may, 
therefore,  take  it  for  granted,  that  there  is  no  hy- 
pocrify,  where  there  appears  to  be  a  fteady  aim  to 
verify  religious  profeilions  by  a  cheerful  obedience. 
A  cold,  and  reludant  fubmiffion  to  the  will  of  God, 
may  be  eafily  diftinguifbed  from  that,  which  comes 
from  the  heart.  And  every  man  may  determine,  to 
his  own  fatisfaclion,  whether  his  duty  is  a  burden 
to  him,  or  his  delight. 

Finally — Our  piety  muft  be  fincere,  if  we  have 
a  refped  to  all  the  commandments.  Submiffion,  in 
particular  inftances,  is  no  proof  that  God  is  the  ob- 
jed  of  our  reverence,  gratitude,  or  love.  There  are 
fome  laws,  which  we  may  feel  no  inclination  to 
tranfgrefs.  Our  conftitution  may  be  fuch,  that,  in 
certain  cafes,  we  fhould  prefer  obedience,  even  were 
the  penalty  of  the  law  fufpended.    Every  man  knows, 

that 


SeRM.  XXIV.]  ON    SINCERITY.  379 

that  there  are  lins,  which  eafily  befet  him.  And  wc 
are  equally  fenliblc,  that  temptations,  which  are  for- 
midable to  fome,  are  very  harmlefs  to  others.  Obe- 
dience, therefore,  muft  be  uniform  and  univerfal  ; 
it  muft  extend  to  all  the  laws  of  God,  and  every 
branch  of  duty,  in  order  to  be  a  teft  of  religious 
lincerity.  The  habitual  tranfgreflion  of  one  point 
would  prove,  that  we  obferved  none  other  from 
right  motives. 

Thus  have  I  conlidered  fincerity,  as  it  refpecls  the 
bleffed  God.  As  his  children  and  fubjeds,  love,  rev- 
erence, gratitude,  fear,  and  devout  homage,  are  a 
tribute,  which  we  cannot  refufe.  As  Chriftians,  we 
profefs  to  render  him  this  tribute.  If,  therefore,  we 
behave  with  like  circumfpedion  at  all  times,  and  in 
all  places ;  if  we  obey  willingly  j  if  we  obey  uniform- 
ly ;  our  religion  is  a  reality,  and  not  a  hypocritical 
pretence.  Such  proofs  are  inconteftable.  They  a- 
mount  to  a  demonftration,  that  our  piety  is  a  con- 
firmed habit,  and  that  our  praife  is  not  of  men,  but 
of  God. 

But,  fecondly — Sincerity,  as  it  refpeds  our  fel- 
low-men, deferves  our  particular  conlideration. — 
And,  in  this  relation,  it  implies,  that  we  really  are 
what  we  would  feem  to  be  :  that  we  reverence  the 
truth  ;  that  as  we  think,  fo  we  fpeak  j  that  as  wc 
profefs,  fo  we  feel  j  that  as  we  promife,  fo  it  is  our 
facred  intention  to  perform.  Oppofed  to  this  vir- 
tue, are  the  various  artifices  praciifed  in  the  world. 
We  fee  men  continually  holding  out  falfe  appear- 
ances ;  facrificing  truth  to  intereft  ;  proftituting  the 
name  of  friendfhip  to  worldly  purpofes  ;  preferring 
low  art  to  true  wifdom  ;  and  fi;udying,  by  every  diC. 
guife,  to  hide  their  real  character.  But  however 
thefe  arts  may  be  commended  by  thofe  who  prac. 

tifc 


2i8o  ON    SINCERITlr.  [SeRM.  XXIV* 

life  them,  they  receive  no  countenance  from  the  gof- 
peL  He,  who  forms  himfelf  on  that  fyftem,  will  be 
one,  In  whom  there  is  no  guile.  He  will  be  an  hon- 
eft  man,  in  the  largeft,  and  moft  emphatical  fenfe,  in 
which  the  terms  can  be  ufed. 

To  prevent,  however,  all  miftakes,  I  would  ob- 
ferve,  that  prudence  is  not  incompatible  with  fin- 
cerity.  In  order  to  be  honeft,  it  is  not  neceffary 
that  we  ihould  proclaim  all  our  thoughts,  or  make 
every  inquilitive  perfon  the  repohtory  of  our  fenti- 
ments.  Sincerity  does  not  oblige  us  to  expofe  all 
the  faults,  which  we  deted  in  others.  Nor  are  we, 
by  any  means,  under  an  obligation  to  acquaint  every 
man,  whom  we  meet,  with  the  ideas,  which  we  have 
formed  of  his  abilities,  or  moral  chara<fler.  It  is  fuf- 
ficient,  that  we  never  declare,  either  by  word  or  ac- 
tion, any  thing  contrary  to  the  fentiment  of  our 
hearts.  But  to  pour  out  every  thing,  which  comes 
into  our  minds,  is  not  fincerity,  but  folly.  It  is  often 
the  fource  of  great  mifchiefs.  And  it  is  always  a 
tranfgreffion  of  that  facred  rule,  "  to  be  wife  as  fer- 
pents,  and  harmlefs  as  doves.*' 

The  man  of  fincerity  is  he,  who,  when  occalion 
calls,  and  duty  requires,  will  invariably  fpeak  his 
mind.  It  is  he,  who,  in  the  line  of  bufinefs,  takes 
no  advantage  of  the  ignorance  and  credulity  of 
others,  and  never  abufes  the  confidence  repofed  in 
him.  It  is  he,  who  never  commends  his  own,  when 
he  knows  that  no  commendation  is  due  :  and  never 
depreciates  the  things  of  others,  when  his  confcience 
would  give  him  the  lie.  It  is  he,  who,  when  he 
contrads,  means  to  fulfil ;  and  when  he  promifes, 
has  no  other  intention  but  to  perform.  It  is  he, 
who  is  a  ftranger  to  the  arts  of  flattery,  and  who 
Would  difdain  to  fpeak  a  language  foreign  from  his 

heart, 


Serm.XXIV.]  on  sincerity*  281 

heart,  in  order  to  ingratiate  himfelf  with  any  man. 
It  is  he,  who  is  very  fparing  of  his  profeflions  of 
friendfliip  5  but  where  he  does  make  them,  never 
fails  to  fiipport  the  charader.  In  fhort,  it  is  he, 
who,  if  a  minifter  of  religion,  preaches  nothing  but 
that  which  he  believes  ;  if  a  ruler,  is  aduated  by 
that  love  of  his  country,  which  he  profefles  ;  if  a 
magiftrate,  entertains  that  reverence  of  juftice,  and 
folicitude  for  the  good  order  of  fociety,  which  ought 
to  guide  his  decifions  ;  and,  if  a  private  perfon,  acts, 
in  every  inftance,  conformably  to  the  fentiments, 
which  he  exprelTes,  He,  who  really  is  in  temper,  in 
opinion,  in  habit,  the  perfon  he  would  choofe  to  be 
efteemed  by  the  world,  he  is  the  man  of  fincerity. 

It  happens,  that  the  virtues,  which  are  of  moft 
importance,  need  the  leaft  to  be  faid,  by  way  of  ex- 
planation. This  is  certainly  the  cafe  with  reipecl  to 
fincerity.  Every  man  knows,  when  he  a6ts  a  fincere 
part.  And  he  is  not  at  a  lofs  to  determine,  as  he  is 
not  backward  to  refent,  when  he  is  infincerely  treat- 
ed by  others.  I  fhall  not,  therefore,  multiply  cafes, 
to  which  the  admonition  in  the  text  may  be  referred. 
But  I  fliall  proceed  to  the  recommendation  of  fin- 
cerity, by  fuch  arguments  as  fhall  be  moft  applicable 
to  the  fubjecl. 

And,  firft — The  vanity  of  all  difguifes  is  an  un- 
anfwerable  objection  againft  them.  To  what  end  is 
infincerity  with  refped  to  God  ?  Surely,  no  one  can 
be  fo  unacquainted  with  his  charader,  as  to  imagine 
that  he  can  impofe  on  him.  "  Hell  is  naked  before 
him,  and  deftruction  has  no  covering  ;"  how  much 
lefs  the  heart  of  man  !  God  is  perfedly  acquainted 
with  every  tranfaclion  within  our  bofoms.  He  un- 
der ftands  our  thoughts  afar  off  :  and  every  fecret 
fpring  of  human  adion  is  expofed  to  his  view. — 
M  m  Confequently, 


282  '   ON    SINCERITY.  [SeRM.  XXIV. 

Confequently,  the  attempt  to  impofe  on  him  muft 
be  as  vain,  as  it  is  impious. 

But  the  arts  of  deception  are  often  vainly  prac- 
tifed  upon  man.  How  frequently  does  it  happen, 
that  the  inlincere  impofe  on  none  but  themfelves  ? 
Men,  who  fuppofe  their  views  and  motives  a  fecret 
to  the  world  ;  who,  without  faith,  profefs  to  believe, 
and,  without  morals,  pretend  to  religion  ;  who  fawn 
and  flatter,  when,  they  imagine,  it  will  ferve  their 
interefl  ;  who  are  friends  without  affedion,  and,  by 
turns,  all  things  to  all  perfons  ;  fuch  men  are  gene- 
rally feen  through,  and  receive  not  the  reward, 
which  they  wifli,  but  that  which  they  deferve.— ^ 
There  is  fo  much  penetration  in  fome,  and  common 
fenfe  in  all,  that  the  infincere  cannot  efcape.  Their 
artifices  are  detected  and  defpifed.  And  a  general 
odium  purfues  the  hypocrite,  under  whatever  form 
he  may  appear. 

In  the  nature  of  things,  it  is  impoffible,  for  a  long 
time,  to  difguife  our  true  character.  If  we  are  hyp- 
ocrites in  religion,  and  pretenders  in  friendfhip,  our 
infmcerity  will  come  to  light.  If  our  tongues  and 
hearts  are  at  variance,  we  ihall,  in  fome  unguarded 
moment,  betray  our  dilhonefty.  And  when  once 
known  to  be  deftitute  of  principle,  our  influence 
with  the  difcerning  will  be  at  an  end.  We  may  be 
treated  with  outward  civility,  but  we  Ihall  be  loaded 
with  juft  contempt.  The  inefficacy  of  art  and  falfe- 
hood,  and  the  difgrace  attending  them,  furnifh, 
therefore,  a  mofl;  powerful  argument  in  favour  of 
fincerity. 

But,  fecondly — It  fliould  be  remembered,  that 
there  are  moments  of  fober  refledion,  and  that,  in 
thofe  moments,  the  infincere  will  reproach  and  de- 
fpife  themfelves  for  their  duplicity.  We  do  not  pro- 
claim 


f5ERM.XXIV.]  ON    SINCERlTr.  28^ 

claim  to  the  world  all  the  difagreeable  fcnfations, 
which  we  feel.  Leaft  of  all,  do  the  artful  expofe  ta 
others  the  felf-condemning  hours,  which  imbitter 
their  lives.  But  we  may  be  aflured,  that  men,  who 
are  deftitute  of  honefty  and  hncerity,  who  have  made 
ihipwreck  of  honour  and  a  good  confcience ;  and 
who  have  preferred  the  maxims  of  worldly  wifdora, 
to  the  laws  of  that  wifdom  which  is  from  above, 
have,  at  certain  feafons,  an  earneft  of  their  future 
punifliment.  Their  hearts  know  their  own  bitter- 
nefe.  In  the  hour  of  ficknefs,  and  on  the  pillow  of 
death,  they  fometimes  have  an  opportunity  to  reflect. 
And  what  their  reflexions  mufl:  be,  it  is  more  eafy 
to  conceive  than  defcribe. 

Lastly — The  hour  is  coming,  when  all  hearts 
will  be  laid  open  ;  when  the  true  character  of  every 
man  will  Hand  revealed,  and  when  a  jufl:  punifliment 
will  overtake  the  hypocrite.  He,  who  once  came  to 
teach  men  truth  and  righteoufnefs,  will  afluredly  ap- 
pear to  reprove  the  violation  of  their  eternal  laws. 
In  the  text,  we  read  of  the  day  of  Chrift  ;  and  we 
are  exhorted  to  be  fincere  and  inoffenfive  till  that 
day.  And  if  there  is  nothing  fecret,  which  will  not 
then  be  revealed  ;  if  all  our  equivocations  and  mental 
refervations  ;  all  our  difguifes  and  falfehoods  ;  all  our 
vain  profeflions,  whether  of  piety  or  friendfliip  ;  all 
our  low  arts  and  diflionourable  motives  ;  if  not  only 
our  adions,  but  their  principle,  will  then  be  expofed, 
nothing  more  need  be  faid  in  favour  of  fineerity. 
Under  the  convidion,  that  the  malk  would  be  torn 
from  you,  and  that  every  meannefs,  every  artifice, 
would  be  proclaimed  in  the  ears  of  millions,  could 
you  aft  the  hypocrite  ?  Could  you,  with  fuch  a  prof- 
peft  before  your  eyes,  difregard  the  exhortations  to 
fineerity,  which  are  addreifed  to  you  in  the  gofpel  ? 

Presuming 


i84  ON  siNCERiTir.  [Serm.  XXIV, 

Presuming  that  you  have  juft  ideas,  both  of  the 
danger  and  infamy  of  falfehood,  I  would  earneftly 
recommend  the  line  of  condud  prefcribed  by  the 
apoftle.  Be  fincere,  and,  if  poffible,  without  offence, 
till  the  day  of  Chrift.  In  the  concerns  of  religion, 
avoid  every  appearance  of  duplicity.  Be  fure,  that 
your  hearts  are  right  with  God,  when  you  folemnly 
approach  him  ;  that  you  feel  that  love,  gratitude, 
and  refped,  that  defire  to  pleafe,  and  fear  to  offend 
him,  which  you  openly  profefs.  In  your  tranfadions 
with  mankind,  let  fincerity  and  uprightnefs  preferve 
you.  Learn  to  defpife  every  falfe  and  evil  way ;  and 
be  perfuaded,  that  he  only,  who  walketh  uprightly, 
walketh  furely.  When  the  language  of  the  lips  cor- 
refponds  with  the  fentiments  of  the  heart,  a  man  has 
nothing  to  fear.  But  the  deceiver  is  always  in  dan- 
ger of  detection. 

Let  this,  therefore,  be  your  rejoicing,  even  the 
teftimony  of  confcience,  that  in  limplicity  and  fin- 
cerity, you  have  had  your  converfation  in  the  world. 
Pay  a  proper  regard  to  the  rules  of  prudence ;  but 
by  no  means  negleft  thofe  of  honour  and  truth.  To 
be  fincere,  is  to  be  amiable  in  the  higheft  degree.  To 
want  it,  is  to  be  deftitute  of  that,  which  may  be  con^ 
fidered  as  the  bafis  of  every  virtue.  Wherefore,  in 
your  whole  intercourfe  with  God  and  man,  be  dired 
and  confiftent.  You  will  be  able  to  look  into  your 
own  hearts  without  difguft.  You  will  be  able  to 
meet  the  eye  of  your  fellow-men ;  and  you  will  not 
dread  the  difcoveries  of  a  future  day.  Your  hearts 
will  not  reproach  you  as  long  as  you  live.  And  you 
will  not  be  difmayed  at  appearing  before  him,  who 
Is  greater  than  your  hearts,  and  who  knoweth  all 
things.  The  words  of  the  pfalmift  are  fo  applicable, 
that  with  them  I  fhall  conclude  my  difcourfe. — " 

"Lord, 


SeRM.  XXV.]]  ON    CONTENTMENT.  285 

"  Lord,  who  fhall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle  ?  who  fhall 
dwell  in  thy  holy  hill  ?  he  that  walketh  uprightly, 
and  worketh  righteoufnefs,  and  fpeaketh  the  truth  in 
his  heart.  He  that  doeth  thefe  things,  Ihall  never  be 
jnoved." 

pennon  xxv. 

On  Contentment. 

PhILIPPIANS  IV.    II. 

«  I    HAVE    LEARNED,   IN    WHATSOEVER    STATE    I    AM, 
THEREWITH    TO    BE    CONTENT." 

THESE  are  the  words  of  the  apoftle  Paul ;  and 
as  we  have  reafon  to  think  he  fpake  the  real 
fentiments  of  his  heart,  they  give  us  the  moft  exalted 
idea  of  his  character.  For  a  perfon,  who  enjoys  all 
the  comforts,  conveniencies  and  elegances  of  life ; 
who  is  furrounded  with  friends,  courted  by  the  rich, 
and  venerated  by  the  poor  ;  for  fuch  a  perfon  to 
appear  contented  with  his  external  lituation,  is  no- 
thing more  than  we  have  a  right  to  expect.  He  has 
every  thing  a  reafonable  being  could  defire,  and 
ought,  therefore,  not  only  to  profefs,  but  really  to 
feel  fatisfied  with  his  condition.  But,  to  our  afton- 
ifliment,  we  hear  this  triumphant  language  from  a 
diftrelTed  follower  of  the  humble  Galilean  ;  and  we 
behold  this  virtue,  in  all  its  perfedion,  in  one,  who, 
like  the  matter  he  ferved,  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.    Yes,  my  hearers,  it  was  a  poor,  defpifed,  and 

perfecuted 


286  ON   CONTENTMENf.  fSlRM.  XXV. 

perfecuted  difciple  of  the  blelTed  Jefus,  who  affures 
us,  he  had  learned  in  every  Jiate  to  be  content.  Glorious 
apoftle,  may  we  learn  that  great  leffon,  in  which 
thou  waft  fo  well  inftrufted  !  May  we  know  how  to 
abound,  and  how  to  want.  In  profperity,  may  we 
rejoice  j  in  adverfity,  be  content.  In  every  fituation 
of  life,  may  we  be  able  to  adopt  thy  language  ;  and 
may  it  be  dictated  by  the  fame  greatnefs  of  mind, 
and  well-grounded  hope  of  a  better  exiftence. 

The  occalion  of  thefe  words,  which  do  fo  much 
honour  to  the  apoftle,  and  inculcate  fuch  an  excellent 
temper  upon  us,  was  a  difcovery  he  made  in  his  Phi- 
lippian  brethren.  Upon  their  firft  converfion  to 
Chriftianity,  they  manifefted  a  beneficent  difpolition 
towards  the  poorer  faints  ;  and,  according  to  their 
feveral  ability,  they  contributed  to  their  relief.  But 
for  fome  time  their  charitable  contributions  were  fuf- 
pended.  This  led  the  apoftle  to  fufpect,  they  had 
loft  that  tender  concern,  which  they  once  manifefted 
towards  him,  and  their  fuffering  brethren.  To  his 
great  joy,  however,  he  foon  found  that  his  fufpicions 
were  utterly  groundlefs.  "  I  rejoiced  greatly  (fays 
he,  in  the  verfe  preceding  the  text)  that  now,  at  the 
laft,  your  care  of  me  hath  flourifhed  again  ;  wherein 
ye  were  alfo  careful,  but  ye  lacked  opportunity.  Not 
that  I  fpeak  in  refpecl  of  want ;  for  /  have  learned^  in 
whatfoever  Jiate  I  am,  therewitfj  to  be  content.  I  know 
both  how  to  be  abafed,  and  I  know  how  to  abound. 
Every  where,  and  in  all  things,  I  am  inftructed,  both 
to  be  full,  and  to  be  hungry  ;  both  to  abound,  and 
to  fuffer  need."  This  is  the  language  of  a  philofo- 
pher  ;  it  is  more,  it  is  the  language  of  a  Chriftian. 
And  until  we  can  adopt  it  in  lincerity,  and  poffefs 
fomething  of  that  fpirit,  by  which  it  was  dictated,  in 
vain  do  we  pretend  to  be  the  children  of  God,  or 

difciples 


SeRM.  XXV.3  ON    CONTENTMENT.  287 

difciples  of  his  Son.  Contentment  is  a  virtue  no  lefs 
grateful  to  heaven,  than  beneficial  to  ourfelves.  It 
is,  indeed,  abfolutely  neceflary  to  the  comfortable 
enjoyment  of  this  life  ;  and  without  it,  we  are  cer- 
tainly unqualified  for  a  fuperior  ftate  of  felicity. — ■ 
This  virtue  conllitutes  a  temporal  heaven.  Like  the 
fun,  it  gilds  every  obje6t  :  it  difpels  every  cloud 
from  the  mind.  It  is  the  parent  of  delight  in  this 
world  ;  and  in  the  world  to  come,  it  will  be  highly 
approved,  and  liberally  rewarded  by  him,  who  orders 
the  various  circumfl:ances  of  our  lives,  who  makes  us 
to  abound,  or  to  fuffer  need  j  who  places  us  in  a 
cottage,  or  on  a  throne  ! 

From  a  convidion,  therefore,  of  its  abfolute  im- 
portance, both  with  refpeft  to  our  prefent  and  future 
enjoyments,  I  fhall  make  the  great  duty  of  content- 
ment the  fubject  of  this  difcourfe.      And, 

First — I  fhall  endeavour  to  explain  the  virtue 
itfelf. 

And,  fecondly — Shew  how  it  may  be  attained. 

First — The  apoftle  afferts,  that  in  every  ftate, 
whether  profperous  or  adverfe,  he  had  learned  to  be 
coptent.  What  was  the  particular  ftate  of  his  mind  ? 
What  his  feelings  ?  And  how  did  they  operate  ?  To 
underftand  this,  we  have  only  to  confider,  what  paf- 
fes  within  ourfelves,  on  particular  occafions  ;  and 
how  we  are  affeded,  when  we  profefs,  and  feel  fatis- 
fied  with  any  occurrence,  or  event,  in  which  we  are 
immediately  concerned.  It  is  impofiible,  but,  at 
fome  period  of  our  lives,  we  have  experienced  this 
affedion.  What,  therefore,  other  men  are  fenfible 
of,  at  certain  moments,  was  the  conftant  tenour  of 
his  foul.  He  ever  brought  down  his  mind  to  his 
fituation.    And  notwithftanding  his  lot  in  this  world 

was 


288  ON    CONTENTMENT.  [SeRM.  XXV. 

was  uncommonly  fevere,  yet  he  was  not  miferable, 
becaufe  he  was  content  that  God  fhould  rule  ;  was 
convinced  of  the  wifdom  and  equity  of  all  the  divine 
adminiftrations  ;  and  was  morally  fure,  that  all  things 
would  work  together  for  good  to  them,  who  culti- 
vated this  pious  reiignation. 

Like  him,  then,  we  ihould  endeavour  to  believe 
our  condition  in  life  wifely  and  mercifully  ordered  j 
and  that  no  change  could  have  taken  place,  in  the 
divine  plan,  without  defeating  fome  glorious  object, 
or  producing  fome  greater  inconvenience.  A  right 
judgment  of  things  is  certainly  included  in  true  chrif- 
tian  content.  God  looks  to  the  heart  :  and  he  ex- 
peds  that  we  ihould  th'mk,  as  well  as  fpeak  refped- 
fully  of  his  difpenfations.  Our  pride  fometimes,  and 
at  others,  decency  hinder  us  from  complaining.— 
And,  it  is  pollible,  a  fenfe  of  duty  may  extort  from 
us  a  cool  commendation  of  the  divine  conduft,  fo 
far  as  it  refpecls  our  lot  in  the  world.  But  this  does 
not  come  up  to  the  temper  difplayed  by  the  holy 
apoftle.  Nor  is  profeflion  only,  the  more  effential 
part  of  this  virtue.  True  content  includes  in  it,  the 
moft  worthy  and  honourable  conceptions  of  the  fu- 
preme  being  ;  a  firm  perfualion  that  he  has  treated 
us  as  a  kind  parent  ;  and  that  our  circumftances  in 
life  are  fuch  as  we  ihould  wiih,  were  we  able  to  com- 
prehend his  vaft  deligns.  Upon  this  balis,  the  virtue 
now  under  confideration  mufl  ftand  :  and  it  muft 
grow  out  of  thefe  fentiments.  Otherwife,  like  the 
houfe  built  on  the  fand,  it  will  be  overturned  by 
the  firft  unruly  blaft  :  and  abfolutely  cruihed  by  the 
weight  of  unexpected  calamity. 

I  MENTION  this,  becaufe,  whatever  we  may  pre- 
tend, we  do  not  appear  to  realize  this  truth,  that 
God  is  equally  wife,  juft,  and  benign,  when  we  are 

abafed. 


SeRM.  XXV.3  OK    CONTENTMENT.  289 

abafed,  as  when  we  abound ;  when  we  fufFer  need,  as 
when  we  are  filled.  The  fun-lhine  of  profperity,  in- 
deed, raifes  our  fpirits  ;  aild  we  are  ready  to  believe 
the  world  is  wifely  governed,  while  all  our  under- 
takings are  crowned  with  fuccefs.  But  when  tribu- 
lation cometh,  we  are  fecretly  offended.  The  ad* 
miniftrations  of  providence  then  want  thofe  marks 
of  wifdom,  which  we  expected  to  find.  And  we  are 
ready  to  alk  our  impatient  hearts,  has  the  judge  of 
all  the  earth  done  right  ?  Againft  all  fuch  vain  and 
impious  conceits,  we  muft  guard  with  the  utmoft  at- 
tention. And  however  we  are  difpofed  of  in  the 
world,  we  mull  poffefs  ourfelves  of  a  firm  perfuaiion, 
that  all  the  paths  of  God  are  mercy  and  truth  ;  and 
nothing  has  happened  to  us  unworthy  the  permiflion 
or  appointment  of  the  beft  of  beings. 

But,  fecondly — «True  content  includes  in  it,  not 
only  juft  fentiments  of  the  blcffed  God,  and  the  dif- 
penfations  of  his  providence  towards  us,  but,  alfo, 
affeflions  of  the  heart  correfpondent  with  fych  ideas. 
The  apoftle,  as  he  was  perfuaded  in  his  mind,  that 
his  condition  was  wifely  ordered,  fo  he  acted  agree- 
ably to  that  perfuafion.  He  refigned  his  will  to  the 
will  of  heaven.  He  fubmitted  to  trials,  of  the  moll 
dyirefling  kind,  with  undaunted  refolution.  Like 
his  divine  mafter,  he  was  ever  ready  to  fay,  "  not 
my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  Though  bonds  and 
imprifonment  awaited  him,  yet  thefe  calamities,  as 
they  did  not  alter  his  fentiments  refpefting  the  divine 
condud,  neither  did  they  deftroy  the  tranquillity, 
or  overcome  the  lleadinefs  of  his  mind.  He  was 
calm  amid  fafferings  overwhelming  to  humanity. 
When  perfecuted  on  every  fide,  he  was  not  caft 
down.  When  troubled,  he  was  not  in  defpair.  He 
was  not  weaiy  of  his  condition,  nor  digl  he  efteem 
N  n  life 


290  ON    CONTENTMENT.  [SeRI^I.  XXV* 

life  a  burden,  merely  becaufe  his  lot  had  been  fo  ad- 
verfe.  With  a  fcrene  and  cheerful  difpofition,  he 
oppofed  himfelf  to  poverty,  contempt,  and  perfecu- 
tion,  knowing  whence  thefe  evils  came,  and  con- 
vinced of  the  gracious  end,  and  falutary  deiign  of 
them. 

Instructed,  therefore,  by  the  example  of  this 
holy  apoftle,  we  mull  not  only  believe  that  God  hath 
done  all  things  well,  but  the  ftate  of  our  minds  muft 
be  fuch,  as  naturally  arifes  from  this  belief.  The 
aflent  of  our  underllandings  muft  influence  the  heart. 
How  adverfe  foever,^  we  muft;  bow  our  minds  to  our 
condition.  And  to  whatever  fufferings  we  are  ap- 
pointed, in  the  providence  of  God,  we  muft  be  able 
to  fay  with  David,  "  behold,  here  I  am,  let  him  do 
to  me  as  feemeth  him  good  !'*  When  the  king  of  If- 
rael  addrefled  the  Almighty  in  this  language,  he  en- 
tertained no  hard  thoughts,  nor  indulged  any  fecret 
indignation  againft  the  fupreme  difpofer  of  all  events* 
He  felt  fatisfied  with  his  adminiftrations.  Adveriity 
did  not  fo  ruftle  his  mind,  as  to  prevent  the  exercife 
of  his  reafon. 

And  thus  patient,  ferene,  and  even  cheerful,  fliould 
we  be,  when  we  are  difappointed  in  our  expecta- 
tions ;  and  events  take  place,  not  only  different  fropi 
our  wilhes,  but  directly  contrary  to  them.  We  muft 
guard  againft  all  rebellious  infurre£lions  ;  we  muft 
fay  to  the  ftorms  of  paffion,  too  ready,  alas  !  to  rife 
upon  every  occafion,  peace^  hejiill.  And  we  muft  fee, 
that  our  commands  be  carried  into  execution.  A 
contented  mind  will  indulge  no  fecret  iwelling  againft 
providence.  It  will  take  cheerfully  the  fpoiling  of 
all  earthly  goods  :  and  will  account  it  all  joy,  when 
befet  with  divers  tribulations.  I'his  may  feem  like 
a  paradox  to  thofe,  who  have  confulted  their  eafe 

and 


Serm.XXV.]         on  contentment;  *9'« 

and  convenience  through  Ufe  and  never  attempted 
to  bear  misfortune  with  the  fpint  of  Chnft.ans  But 
the  True  philofopher,  and  fmcere  dtfc.ple  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  will  rejoice  in  every  fituation  :  an^  bemg 
nreDared  for  the  worft,  he  will  not  be  furprifed  mto 
Smen?  or  a  feeling,  which  fcaU  refleft  d.fconour 
upon  the  divine  government. 

But    thirdly— True  content  mcludes,  not  only  a 
firm  p^rftf  J,  that  all  thing,  are  for  the  beft   and 
a  temper  of  mind  conformable  to  this  perfuafion  but 
:,ra'courfe  of  external  behaviour  correfponden 
with  our  fentiments  and  affeftions      A  man    who  is 
poffeffed  of  this  virtue,  will  exprefc  the  h.gheft  fat^ 
faclion  in  the  providential  government  ot  Ood. 
Whatev  r  befals  him.  he  will  not  imf^oufly  refleft 
Tthe  fupreme  dlfpofer  of.  all  events.     If  hun|y,  Je 
will  not  fret,  and  curfe  his  king  and  God,  like  the 
^pious  tranfgreffors  mentioned  by   the  prophet 
„T«ke  thof?  mentioned  in  the  Revelation    will  he 

blafpheme  the  majefty  ofh-^' '"tlmniousTn 
and  fufferings.  In  fuch  profane  and  impiou  lan- 
guage! wffl  wicked  men  fometimes  vent  then:  indig- 
fatfon  againfl  the  bleffed  God.  They  will  bo  Jy 
queftion  his  wifdom  or  power  :  or,  with  fronUels 
impudence,  will  charge  him  with  injuftice. 

Not  fo  the  true  chriftian  philofopher.      He  w  U 

uniformly  bear  teftimony  to  the  ^/M^'^/^d  ff  "^ 

of  the  divine  adminiftrations.     If  m  adverfity,  he 

wiU  fay  with  David,  "  I  know    O  Lord   thy  jud| 

ments  are  right,  and  that  in  faithf\ilnefs  thou  halt 

Sd  me."     He  will  take  no  unlawful  meafures  to 

remedy  his  fituation.      But  ^i*/r='S^'/^";'J' 

and  zeal,  will  he  difcharge  the  duties,  and  purfae 

the  bufinefs  of  life.     And,  cx,nfcious  _that  he  fuffers 

according  to  the  will  of  God,  he  wiU  commi     he 


29*  ON   CONTENTMENT,  [SerM.  XXV* 

keeping  of  his  foul  to  him  in  well-doing,  as  unto  a 
faithful  creator.  Such,  my  hearers,  was  the  glorious 
attainment  of  the  apoftle  ;  fuch  the  exalted  virtue 
recommended  by  his  example. 

Having  thus  explained  what  is  included  in  true 
chriftian  content,  I  procjeed,  fecondly,  to  inquire  how 
it  may  be  attained.  And  that  a  contented  mind 
does,  in  fome  meafure,  depend  upon  our  own  exer- 
tions, is  plain  from  the  text.  "  /  have  learned  (fays 
the  apoftle)  in  ivhatfoever  Jiate  I  am,  therewith  to  be  con- 
tentJ'^  This  virtue  was  not  innate  ;  nor  did  it  arife 
fpontaneouily  in  the  foul.  It  was  the  refult  of  fevere 
difcipline  on  his  part,  and  divine  grace  on  that  of  his 
maker. 

In  the  firft  place,  we  may  reafonably  fuppofe,  the 
apoftle  bore  in  mind  this  undoubted  truth,  that  God 
had  a  right  to  order  the  condition  of  his  creatures 
according  to  his  fovereign  pleafure.  This  was  one 
ftep  towards  the  attainment  of  that  virtue,  which 
was  fo  eminently  difplayed  in  the  temper,  language, 
and  behaviour  of  this  good  man,  And  the  like  re- 
flexion will  lead  us  to  be  contented  with  our  lot,  how 
adverfe  foever,  and  contrary  to  our  expectations. 
^'  Even  though  the  fig-tree  Ihould  not  bloffom,  and 
there  Ihould  be  no  fruit  in  the  vine,"  it  will  difpofe 
us  to  "  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  God  of 
our  falvation."  The  God,  in  whofe  hands  our  breath 
is,  and  whofe  are  all  our  ways,  may  certainly  order 
the  circumft^nces  of  our  lives  according  to  his  own 
wife  pleafure.  He  may  fet  us  with  princes,  or  level 
us  with  the  meaneft  of  our  fpecies  :  he  may  clothe 
us  with  fine  linen,  or  cover  us  with  rags  :  he  may 
fill  our  mouths  with  good  things,  or  fend  us  empty 
away.  He  has  an  undoubted  right  to  do  as  he 
pleafes  with  us  ;    and,  without  great  impiety,  we 

cannot. 


SeRM.  XXVJ  ON    CONTENTMENT.  293 

cannot  quarrel  with  his  difpenfations,  or  fay  unto 
him,  what  doeft  thou  ? 

Considering,  then,  who  we  are,  and  from  whom 
we  derive  our  exiftence  ;  considering  who  upholds 
us  in  being,  and  bellows  upon  us  all  thofe  things, 
which  we  fondly  and  prefumptuoufly  call  our  own  ; 
fliall  we  be  impatient,  unrefigned,  or  diffatisfied  with 
our  condition  ?  Shall  we  entertain  a  murmuring 
thought,  or  utter  one  indecent  expreflion,  relative  to 
the  majefty  of  heaven  ?  By  no  means.  Shall  I  not 
do  ivhat  I  will  with  my  ozvn  ?  is  a  maxim,  which  ought 
to  awe  us  into  fubmiflion.  And  in  the  mouth  of 
God  it  is  an  argument,  that  we  ought  to  be  content, 
let  what  will  come  to  pafs. 

Let  us,  therefore,  realize  this  truth,  that  we  owe 
our  being,  our  powers,  all  our  prefent  enjoyments, 
and  all  we  exped,  to  the  great  difpofer  of  human 
events.  Let  us  remember  his  right  over  the  work-, 
manfliip  of  his  hands.  To  thefe  conliderations,  let 
us  join  his  wifdom,  power,  and  goodnefs,  and  we 
fhaU  have  an  unfailing  motive  to  reft  fatisfied  with 
our  lot.  A  frequent  meditation  on  thefe  things,  will 
teach  us  true  content.  If  we  are  not  uncommonly 
ftupid,  we  fh^ll  learn  that  great  leflbn,  which  the 
apoftle  ftudied  with  fuccefs.  We  fhall  acquire  a  vir^ 
tue  moft  ornamental  to  human  nature,  and  eifential 
%o  human  happinefs. 

But,  fecondly-— To  learn  contentment,  we  fhould 
remember,  not  only  that  our  lot  in  this  world  is  or- 
dered by  a  wife  and  merciful  being,  but  that  we  are 
utterly  unworthy  of  the  very  leaft  of  his  favours. 
This  was  a  refleftion,  which,  I  doubt  not,  often  oc-. 
curred  to  the  apoftle's  mind,  and  was  a  powerful 
means  of  rendering  him  fatisfied  with  his  condition. 
lie  recoUecled,  that  he  had  no  claim  upon  the  divine 

bounty  ; 


294  ON    CONTENTMENT.  [SeRM.  XXV. 

bounty  ;  that  God  was  under  no  obligation  to  grat- 
ify every  wifh  and  defire  of  his  foul.  What  though 
perfecution  brandilhed  its  flaming  fword,  and  calami- 
ties of  various  kinds  awaited  him,  he  could  not  fay, 
God  was  in  juftice  bound  to  avert  thefe  evils.  He, 
therefore,  reafoned  himfelf  into  that  pious  flate  of 
mind,  which  has  been  already  defcribed.  With  his 
dcferts  he  contrafted  his  fufFerings,  and  was  content 
to  receive  the  cup,  which  providence  had  poured  out 
to  him. 

Let  the  fame  truth  teach  us  the  fame  leiTon.  We 
are  certainly  great  offenders  againft  the  juft  and  mer- 
ciful governor  of  the  world.  Long  lince  have  we 
forfeited  our  lives,  and  every  enjoyment :  wherefore, 
of  all  his  creatures,  it  would  ill  become  us  to  com- 
plain of  our  condition  ;  or  to  refent  the  troubles  we 
meet  with,  in  the  ordinary  courfe  of  providence.  It 
is  granted,  our  longing  defires  are  not  gratified  in 
the  prefent  ilate.  We  will  even  grant  that  man  is 
born  to  trouble  :  flill,  if  we  fuffer  lefs  than  our  ini- 
quities deferve,  we  ought  humbly  to  acquiefce  in 
every  difpenfation.  It  is  unreafonable,  and  highly 
criminal,  to  be  difcontented,  v/hen  the  divine  mercy 
evidently  triumphs  over  juftice. 

Thirdly — To  acquire  this  virtue,  we  fhould  often 
turn  our  views  towards  the  heavenly  world,  and 
habituate  ourfelves  to  contemplate  thofe  future  good 
things,  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  who  love 
Jiim.  The  gofpel  difcovers  to  us  a  ftate  of  pure,  and 
uninterrupted,  and  eternal  felicity.  It  promifes  joys, 
which  never  fade,  and  pleafures,  "  which  eye  hath 
not  feen,  nor  ear  heard,  and  which  hath  not  entered 
into  the  human  heart  to  conceive."  With  the  ex- 
peded  happinefs  of  the  celeftial  world,  the  fufferings 
pf  this  prefent  life  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared. 

They 


Se*lm.  XXVJ        on  contentment,  295 

They  are  lefs  than  nothing,  when  contrafted  with  an 
eternal  and  exceeding  weight  of  glory  ! 

Wherefore,  in  the  hour  of  tribulation,  let  it  he 
our  fupport,  that  we  are  defigned  for  a  better,  and 
a  nobler  ftate.  If  we  are  reduced  to  poverty,  let  us 
coniider  the  blelTednefs  of  thofe,  who  are  rich  in 
faith,  and  heirs  of  the  kingdom.  If  we  are  afflicted 
and  tormented,  let  us  remember  that  our  afflidions 
wiU  end  with  this  life  ;  and  in  the  life  to  come,  that 
all  tears  will  be  wiped  from  our  eyes,  and  forrow  and 
fighing  be  forever  done  away.  We  cannot  be  habit- 
ually difcontented,  if  we  realize  thefe  truths.  No 
lofs,  no  difgrace,  no  difappointment,  can  prey  upon 
our  fpirits,  if  wc  have  our  converfation  in  heaven, 
and  feel  as  citizens  of  that  bleffed  place.  This,  join- 
ed to  the  conliderations  already  mentioned,  fupported 
the  apoftle  Paul  amid  his  cruel  fufFerings.  "  For  this 
caufe  (faith  he)  we  faint  not  ;  while  we  look  not  at 
the  things  which  are  feen,  but  thofe  which  are  un- 
feen.  For  the  things  which  are  feen,  are  temporal  ; 
but  thofe  which  are  unfeen,  are  eternal." 

Fourthly — It  would  greatly  aflifl  us  in  the  acqui- 
fition  of  true  content,  to  contemplate  their  example, 
who  have  been  moft  celebrated  for  this  virtue.  The 
apoftle  Paul,  as  we  have  already  obferved,  was  a  glo- 
rious inftance  of  chriftian  relignation.  He  had  long 
fubjeded  his  will  to  the  will  of  God.  In  every 
ftate,  he  had  learned  to  be  content.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, often  revolve  in  our  minds,  the  various  fuffer- 
ings,  hardihips,  and  dangers,  he  was  called  to  en- 
counter. Let  us  coniider  how  he  behaved  in  the 
moft  trying  lituations.  The  contemplation  of  fuch  a 
glorious  example  will  both  inftrud  and  entertain.  It 
will  happily  coi;kiuce  to  form  this  amiable  temper  in 
us.  With  a  realizing  fenfe  of  the  divine  govern- 
ment. 


29^  «N    CONtENTMENT.  [SeRM.  XXV. 

ment,  of  our  own  ill  deferts,  and  of  the  future  joys, 
which  we  expe6t,  it  will  confpire  to  render  us  wife, 
contented,  and  happy^ 

But,  above  all,  permit  me  to  recommend  the  ftill 
more  glorious  example  of  Jefus  Chrift.  In  every  pe- 
riod of  his  life  and  miniftry,  he  difplayed  this  virtue 
in  perfedion.  He  was  contented  in  heaven,  before 
the  world  was.  He  was  contented  with  his  humble 
lot,  when  he  divefted  himfelf  of  his  native  glory,  and 
appeared  in  our  form*  He  was  content,  though  a 
man  of  forrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief  j  though 
defpifed,  reje6led,  and  treated  with  every  mark  of 
contempt.  He  was  content,  though  he  had  not 
where  to  lay  his  head.  Even  when  led  forth  as  a 
lamb  to  the  flaughter,  and  numbered  with  tranfgref- 
fors,  he  difcovered  no  ligns  of  refentment,  irreligna- 
tion,  or  difcontent.  Let  us,  therefore,  if  we  pretend 
to  be  his  difciples,  walk  as  he  walked.  He  left  us  an 
example,  that  We  fliould  follow  his  fteps.  By  culti* 
vating  his  virtues,  and  imitating  his  amiable  behav- 
iour, we  fhall  at  once  adorn  our  characters,  and  be- 
come  qualified  for  thofe  fuperiour  enjoyments,  which 
he  hath  purchafed  for  us. 

Finally — ^We  Ihould  often  repair  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  and  intreat  that  being,  who  knows  our 
frailty,  to  fupport  us  in  the  hour  of  tribulation,  and 
infpire  us  with  fuch  ideas  of  his  providential  govern- 
ment, as  Ihall  render  us  contented  and  happy  in 
every  fituation.  This  is  no  more  than  a  reafonable 
fervice.  It  is  but  a  decent  token  of  refpeft  for  him, 
who  orders  our  condition  in  this  life,  and  who  knows 
the  affiftance  we  need.  To  him,  therefore,  let  us  of- 
ten repair  ;  and  fhould  he,  in  mercy,  grant  our  re- 
queft  ;  fhould  he  enable  us  to  acquire  that  habit, 
which  is  recommended  in  the  text,  it  would  be  a 

four<:e 


SeRM.  XXVI.]  ON   GOVERNING,   ^r.  igy 

fource  of  rational  pleafure  in  this  world,  aiid  a  fuit* 
able  preparative  for  the  world  to  come.  A  contented 
mind,  how  great,  how  defirable  a  bleffing  !  May 
you,  my  brethren,  poffefs  this  happy  temper.  May 
you  learn  this  great  lelTon.  In  profperity,  may  you 
be  joyful  ;  in  adverfity,  may  you  be  content.  May 
you  be  inftruded,  both  how  to  abound,  and  how  to 
fuffer  want.  May  none  of  the  evils  of  life  difturb 
your  minds.  In  whatfoever  ftate,  may  you  fhew 
yourfclves  men  :  may  you  do  more,  may  you  ad  up 
to  the  dignity  of  your  character  as  Chriftians.  Then 
will  you  enjoy  the  utmoft  this  world  can  afford  ; 
and,  at  the  fame  time,  fecure  to  yourfelves  more  no« 
ble  and  lafting  pleafures. 


)ttmon  xxvL 


On  governing  the  Temper. 
Proverbs  xxv.  28* 

"  llE  THAT  HATH  NO  RULE  OVER  HIS  OWN  SPIRIT,  IS 
LIKE  A  CITY  THAT  IS  BROKEN  DOWN,  AND  WITH* 
OUT  WALLS." 

NEVER  does  man  appear  to  greater  difadvan-* 
tage,  than  when  he  is  the  fport  of  his  owa 
ungoverned  pailiORs.  Never  has  he  more  reafon  to 
be  diffatisfied  with  himfelf,  than  when  the  tempcft  of 
his  foul  begins  to  fubfide,  and  confeience  firft  re- 
proaches him  for  his  outrageous  folly.  The  amazre" 
O  o  ment. 


-     \ 

29S  ON    GOVERNING  [SeRM.  XXVI, 

ment,  the  mortification  of  fuch  a  perfon,  are  fo  beau- 
tifully defcribed  by  the  poet,  that,  though  unufual  to 
introduce  poetry  into  a  religious  difcourfe,  I  cannot 
refill  the  temptation  on  this  occafion. 

"  Our  paffions  gone,  and  reafon  on  her  throne, 
"  Amaz'd  we  fee  the  mifchiefs  we  have  done  : 
*'  So  when  the  ftorm  is  o'er,  and  winds  are  laid, 
*'  The  calm  fea  wonders  at  the  wrecks  it  made." 

Gould  a  man,  in  the  height  of  paffion,  fee  himfelf, 
he  would  want  no  other  motive  to  govern  his  tem- 
per. Could  he  always  anticipate  his  own  difagree- 
able  feelings,  he  would  take  feafonable  care  to  prevent 
them.  But  the  misfortune  of  the  paffionate  man  is, 
that  he  a6ls  firft,  and  then  refleds ;  in  which  cafe, 
reflection  ferves  only  to  augment  his  mifery. 

In  the  due  government  of  human  paffions,  con- 
fifts  the  dignity  of  human  nature.  And  upon  this 
depends  our  happinefs.  Man  is  a  compound  being. 
He  has  paffions  to  urge  -,  and  reafon  to  dired.  Each 
ferves  an  important  purpofe  in  the  fyftem.  And 
w^ere  either  wanting,  he  would  become  utterly  unfit 
for  the  rank  affigned  by  his  wife  creator.  With  lefs 
reafon,  lie  would  be  a  brute  ;  with  a  higher  degree 
of  it,  more  than  man.  His  great  objed,  therefore, 
fhould  be,  not  to  extinguilh,  but  to  govern  his  paf- 
fions. He  that  does  this,  is  a  wife  man :  but  "  /je 
ihat  hath  no  rule  over  his  own  fp'trit,  is  like  a  city  that  is 
broken  down,  and  without  walls.'*  He  lies  expofed  to 
every  vice.  The  enemy  may  enter  at  pleafure,  and 
make  the  moft  fatal  depredations. 

By  comparing  the  language  of  the  text  with  other 
•xpreffions  of  the  wife  man,  we  can  have  no  doubt, 
that  he  had  a  particular  view  to  the  paffion  of  anger* 
He  that  rukth  his  fpirity  and  he  that  is  Jlow  to  anger, 

are 


Serm.  XXVL]  the  temper.  29^ 

are  fynonymous  terms.  And  the  idea  he  would 
convey  is  this,  that  a  man,  who  had  no  command 
over  his  natural  temper,  who  was  eafiiy  inflamed, 
and  violent  in  his  refentments,  that  fuch  an  unhappy 
perfon  would  lay  himfelf  open  to  every  fpecies  of 
vice,  and  continually  make  work  for  repentance. — 
What  he  had  done  in  paflion,  he  would  have  to  undo 
In  a  ferious  moment.  What  he  had  faid  in  his  hafte, 
he  would  have  to  retrad.  And  thus  would  he  de- 
ftroy  all  rational  enjoyment,  by  fucceflive  a6ls  of  fol- 
ly, and  new  mortification.  The  wife  man  compares 
him  to  a  city  without  walls ;  and  which  had  nothing 
to  defend  it  from  the  incurfions  of  an  enemy.  A 
happy  fimilitude  !  Such,  indeed,  is  the  angry  man. 
His  ungoverned  fpirit  throws  down  every  bulwark, 
which  reafon  had  ereded  for  the  fecurity  of  his  in- 
nocence. It  invites  every  inlidious  foe  to  enter,  and 
lay  wafte.  And  it  feldom  happens,  that  they  do  not 
take  advantage  of  his  infecurity.  In  plain  words,  a 
man,  who  has  no  command  over  his  temper,  is  al- 
ways off  his  guard  ;  in  a  fit  of  paflion,  he  may  do 
that,  which  it  is  impofllble  he  fliould  repair ;  and  one 
ad  of  violence  may  lead  on  to  the  mofl;  fliocking 
enormities.  This  I  take  to  be  the  fentiment  particu- 
larly conveyed  in  the  text. 

But  in  profecution  of  the  difcourfe,  I  fhall  con- 
fider  the  words  of  the  wife  man  in  their  more  ex- 
tenfive  fignification.  Man  has  other  paflions  befides 
that  of  anger.  And  the  word  fpirit  is  equally  appli- 
cable  to  them.  What  I  fliall,  therefore,  attempt  is, 
to  fhow  the  neceflity  of  governing  our  peculiar  tem- 
per, as  we  would  avoid  the  evil  confequences  men- 
tioned in  the  text  ;  and  which,  from  experience  and 
obfervation,  we  know  to  be  the  immediate  punifli^ 
pient  of  unreftrained  paflion. 

And 


3QP  ON   GOVERNING  [SeRM.  XXVI. 

And,  £rfl— I  would  obferve,  the  fpirit  or  temper 
evidently  varies  in  different  perfons.  There  is  a  di- 
verfity  in  all  the  works  of  God.  But  in  man,  this 
is  moft  apparent.  Though  all  poffefs  the  fame  eflen- 
tial  faculties,  yet,  amongft  the  human  kind,  there  is 
an  endlefs  diverfity  of  charader.  This  is  not  the 
fole  effect  of  culture,  or  early  education  ;  it  takes  rife 
from  the  original  conftitution.  Men  are  made  dif- 
ferently in  many  refpecls.  As  they  come  from  the 
creating  hand  of  God,  they  are  unlike  each  other. 
In  the  predominance  of  one  paffion,  or  the  general 
tone  of  the  whole,  they  as  evidently  differ,  as  in  the 
particular  features  and  caft  of  each  countenance. — * 
This  will  be  acknowledged  by  all,  who  have  ftudied 
human  nature.  "Why  there  jfliould  be  this  diverfity, 
is  a  queftion,  which  none  can  anfwer,  but  the  au- 
thor of  our  being.     But  the  fad  itfelf  is  indifputable. 

In  the  world,  we  fee  men  good  and  bad,  whofe 
charadler  is  evidently  the  refult  of  natural  conftitu- 
tion. Some  are,  by  nature,  meek  and  lowly  of 
heart.  When  they  receive  an  injury,  they  are  dif- 
pofed  candidly  to  overlook  it.  They  are  not  infenii-. 
ble  of  the  wrong  ;  but  they  cannot  work  themfelves 
up  to  fuch  a  pitch  of  refentment,  as,  with  their  own 
hand,  to  puniffi  the  aggreffor,  or  to  involve  fociety 
in  the  quarrel.  Others  are  altogether  as  revengeful. 
The  mere  fufpicion  of  wrong  tranfports  them  be- 
yond all  fober  bounds  ;  and  they  are  very  mad-men, 
till  undeceived,  or  till  they  have  obtained  fatisfaclion. 
Some  are  extremely  felfifh.  Their  own  private  inte- 
reft  employs  their  whole  attention.  They  live  but 
for  themfelves.  And  provided  they  fhould  not  be 
involved  in  them,  they  care  not  what  evils  befal  fo- 
ciety. To  their  ear,  the  child  of  affliction  addreffes 
iis  cry  in  vain.     Before  their  eye,  in.  vain  does  h^ 

difplay 


SeRM.  XXVI.]  THE    TAMPER.  ^Of. 

difplay  his  forlorn  fituation.  They  can  neither  fee 
jior  hear,  when  their  own  intereft  is  not  immediately 
concerned.  Others  you  will  find,  whofe  difpofition 
is  juft  the  reverfe.  Their  paffions  and  affections  have 
other  men  for  their  object.  They  know  not  what  it 
is  to  feel  felfifh.  But,  generous  and  good  to  a  high 
degree,  they  bend  all  their  powers  to  promote  the 
happinefs  of  their  fellow-creatures.  Some  men  are 
naturally  proud.  In  their  intercourfe  with  mankind, 
they  can  fcarcely  treat  them  with  common  civility. 
Others  are  altogether  as  unalTuming.  Inftead  of 
making  the  meaneft  of  their  fpecies  feel  his  inferi- 
ority, they  behave  towards  all  with  that  polite  atten- 
tion, which  is  due  to  human  nature  j  which  is  indiC 
penfable  from  man  to  man.  In  fome  hearts,  there  is 
a  prevalence  of  the  malevolent  paffions.  Hence  the 
envy,  malice,  and  uncharitablenefs,  which  difgrace 
many  characters.  In  others,  you  will  perceive  the 
moft  winning  fweetnefs,  the  moil  extenfive  charity, 
the  moft  generous  good-will.  It  would  be  impoffible 
to  go  over  all  the  particulars,  in  which  men  natur- 
ally differ  from  each  other.  Their  fpirit  is  as  vari- 
ous as  their  ftature  or  complexion.  He  that  gave 
gentlenefs  to  the  lamb,  gave  fiercenefs  to  the  tiger. 
He,  who  gave  wifdom  to  the  ferpent,  gave  innocence 
to  the  dove.  And  he,  who  fo  formed  one  man,  that, 
without  any  previous  cultivation,  he  fhould  naturally 
appear  kind,  generous,  patient,  humble,  courteouSj, 
and,  in  every  view,  amiable,  fo  formed  another, 
that  he  fhould  as  naturally  difcover  the  oppofite 
temper,  unlefs  he  took  particular  pains  to  correal  it, 
God  is  the  maker  of  us  all.  Our  temper  he  origin- 
ally moulded.  Or,  to  fpeak  more  properly,  he  gave 
the  particular  turn  to  our  mind,  on  which  our  tem- 
per is  founded.      But  as  we  are  intelligent  beings, 

have 


303  ON   GOVERNING  [SeRM.  XXVI. 

have  reafon  to  reft  rain,  as  well  as  paflions  to  urge, 
our  fpirit  is  not  incapable  of  being  governed.  To 
rule  it,  is  ftiil  the  duty  of  every  man  :  and  to  this 
duty  I  would  now  call  your  attention. 

It  is  granted,  there  is  fomething  in  us,  which  we 
cannot  alter,  by  any  affiftance,  which  God  has  hith- 
erto been  pleafed  to  afford  us.  We  cannot  change 
the  orignal  conftitution  of  our  minds.  The  particu- 
lar caufe  of  our  natural  temper,  is  not  fubjed  to  our 
control.  But  our  temper  itfelf  may  certainly  be 
governed.  And  it  is  our  dif^race,  that  no  more  at- 
tention is  paid  to  this  duty.  We  all  own  its  obliga- 
tion, when  we  criticife  the  condud  of  others.  We 
err  only,  when  we  make  the  application  to  ourfelves. 
Then,  indeed,  we  plead  the  weaknefs  of  human  na- 
ture, and  the  violence  of  paffion.  And  we  can  reft: 
perfecT:ly  fatisfied  with  an  excufe,  which  we  admit 
in  no  other  cafe  whatever. 

The  duty  of  every  man  is  to  rule  his  own  fpirit  ; 
and  in  order  to  this,  he  muft  firft  inquire,  what 
manner  of  fpirit  he  is  of.  No  perfon  is  altogether 
deftitute  of  any  paffion  or  affeclion  belonging  to  hu- 
man nature.  They  all  have  their  place  in  every 
bofom.  And  never  was  the  balance  fo  exadly  main-: 
tained,  but  fome  one  would  predominate  over  the 
reft.  In  plain  words,  every  man  has  his  ruling  paf- 
fion ;  and  to  difcover  this,  is  the  firft  neceflary  ftep, 
in  order  to  the  due  government  of  the  whole. 

And  whoever  will  ferioufly  examine  his  own  conr 
ftitution,  may  certainly  make  this  importawt  dif- 
covery.  That  we  are  fo  ignorant  of  ourfelves,  is  our 
own  fault.  If  we  know  not  what  manner  of  fpirit 
we  are  of,  it  is  becaufe  we  do  not  inquire.  God  has 
given  us  abilities  to  inveftigate  our  ruling  paffion  : 
anfi  if  we  only  employ  them  in  the  fearch,  we  fliali 

foon 


Serm.  XXVI.]  the  temper.  30^ 

fodh  difcover,  whether  we  are  naturally  hafty  or 
cool,  fellifh  or  generous,  proud  or  humble,  ambitious 
or  unafpiring,  infolent  or  courteous,  timid  or  brave, 
four,  morofe,  captious,  fevere,  or  gentle,  mild,  can- 
did, and  univerfally  benevolent.  Notwithftanding 
the  fuppofed  difficulty  of  knowing  ourfelves,  it  is  not 
an  impoffible  attainment. 

Having,  therefore,  difcovered  our  own  natural 
temper,  our  predominating  pailion,  we  muft  imme- 
diately undertake  the  conqueft  of  it.  This  fubdued, 
all  others  will  readily  yield.  If  a  man  be  naturally 
paflionate,  and  fliould,  by  any  means,  become  fenfible 
of  it,  his  lirft  great  concern  fhould  be,  to  correal  this 
infirmity.  He  fhould  call  to  mind  the  danger  and 
difgrace  of  lofing  the  command  of  himfelf.  He 
fliould  endeavour  to  realize  his  own  appearance, 
when  tranfported  with  paflion.  The  advantage  he 
gives  his  enemies,  ftiould  alfo  be  taken  into  the  ac- 
count. And  joined  to  all  thefe  conliderations,  he 
fliould  remember,  that  to  conquer  his  own  fpirit, 
will  do  him  more  honour,  and  aflPord  more  ground 
for  triumph,  than  any  other  conquefl  he  could  make. 
Agreeably  to  thofc  words  of  the  wife  man,  "  he  that 
is  flow  to  anger,  is  better  than  the  mighty  ;  and  he 
that  ruleth  his  fpirit,  than  he  who  taketh  a  city. 

Again — Is  a  man  naturally  felfifh  ?  To  correal: 
this,  fliould  be  his  firft  objed.  He  fliould  reafon 
with  himfelf  upon  the  meannefs  of  his  governing 
paflion.  He  fliould  confider,  that  he  was  not  made 
for  himfelf  only.  He  fliould  turn  his  eyes  to  thofe 
many  examples  of  generoflty,  which  every  age  affords. 
He  fliould  compare  his  own  narrow  foul  with  the 
liberal  mind.  And  he  fhould  afk  his  own  heart, 
whether  there  was  not  a  greatnefs  in  others,  and  a 
meannefs  about  him,  which  rendered  him  unworthy 

of 


304  ON    GOVERNmo  [SeRM.  XXVt* 

of  their  fociety.  By  a  procefs  of  this  kind,  any  man 
might  get  the  better  of  a  felfifh  fpirit  ;  and,  inftead 
of  being  a  difgrace  to  fociety,  might  become  its 
greateft  blelling. 

Again — Upon  ftudying  his  own  natural  temper, 
does  a  man  difcover  an  uncommon  Ihare  of  pride  ? 
Does  he  find  a  prevailing  inclination  to  magnify  him- 
felf,  and  depreciate  others  ?  Then  let  him  firil  attend 
to  this  unhappy  bias.  Both  reafon  and  the  gofpel 
furnifh  innumerable  leflbns  againft  pride.  By  liftening 
to  them,  he  will  foon  learn  not  to  "  think  of  himfeif 
more  highly  than  he  ought.'*  And  having  learned 
this  leflbn,  to  govern  his  temper  in  other  refpeds 
will  be  no  very  difficult  talk. 

Once  more-*-Is  a  man  confcious  that  the  fenfual 
appetites  have  too  great  dominion  over  him  ?  that 
he  is  given  to  the  flelh,  and  difpofed  to  obey  it  in 
the  iufts  thereof  ?  that  the  fear  of  man  is  his  par- 
ticular infirmity  ?  that  he  is  apt  to  be  envious  at 
the  profperity  of  others,  and  to  feel  a  malicious 
pleafure  when  evil  befals  them  ?  that  his  natural 
temper  is  fullen  or  morofe  ?  Is  he  confcious  that  in. 
either  of  thefe  refpefts  he  differs  from  other  men, 
and  is  expofed  to  temptations,  which  many  are  not  ? 
Then  let  him  firft  endeavour  to  re<5lify  what  is  fa 
amifs  in  himfeif.  When  he  has  reduced  his  fpirit,  in 
thofe  particular  inftances  where  it  is  leaft  governable, 
he  will  foon  obtain  an  eafy  conqueft  in  all  others. 

We  have  every  motive  to  attempt  the  maftery  of 
our  paffions.  Greatly  does  a  man  link  beneath  him- 
feif, when  he  becomes  a  flave  to  them.  And  moft 
fatal  are  the  confequences  of  giving  them  the  reins. 
*'  He  that  hath  no  rule  over  his  oim  fpirit,  is  like  a  city 
that  is  broken  down,  and  without  walls.**  He  is  without 
any  defence  againft  his  fpiritual  enemies.     He  is  in 

the 


SeRM.  XXVI.]  THE    TEMPER.  305 

the  way  of  every  temptation.  And  it  is  morally  im- 
poflible  he  fhould  preferve  himfelf  from  the  pollu* 
tions,  which  are  in  the  world.  If  he  be  naturally 
paflionate,  what  mifchief  may  he  not  do,  when  vio- 
lently enraged  ?  He  may  offer  the  groffeft  affront  to 
his  befl  friend.  He  may  blafpheme  the  God  of  hea- 
ven. He  may  difturb  the  peace  of  fociety,  and  ex- 
pofe  himfelf  to  the  deferved  punifhment  of  its  vio- 
lated laws.  And,  what  is  itill  worfe,  he  may  ftain 
his  hands  with  innocent  blood.  Of  what  enormities 
have  not  men  been  guilty,  in  a  fit  of  pafhon  ?  What 
havock  have  they  not  made  ?  The  language  of  Ja- 
cob, refpecling  his  fons,  may  be  applied  to  other  paf* 
iionate  men.  "  In  their  anger,  they  flew  a  man  ;  in 
their  wrath,  they  digged  down  a  wall.  Curfed  be 
their  anger,  for  it  was  fierce  ;  and  their  wrath,  for  it 
was  cruel."  When  he  has  no  rule  over  his  own 
fpirit,  a  man  invites  temptation  ;  and  may  eafily  be 
betrayed  into  every  fpecies  of  violence. 

But  the  limile  in  the  text  holds  good,  if  applied 
to  any  other  pafhon.  Self-love,  when  carried  to  ex- 
cefs,  renders  a  man  defencelefs,  like  a  city  without 
walls.  Whence  come  avarice,  meannefs,  and  the  va- 
rious arts  pradifed  by  the  men  of  this  world,  but 
from  the  influence  of  this  principle  ?  Why  do  we 
impofe  upon  each  other  ?  Why  do  we  opprefs  and 
defraud  ?  Why  violate  the  truth,  in  numberlefs  in- 
ftances,  every  day  we  live  ?  Why  continually  offend 
againfl  that  plain  rule  of  our  Saviour,  "  lo  do  to 
others,  as  we  would  they  fliould  do  to  us"  ?  The 
reafon  is,  becaufe  we  do  not  rule  our  felfifh  fpirit. 
Only  fubdue  this,  and  fociety  will  be  fenlible  of  the 
blefhng. 

Has  pride  the  afcendency  in  us  ?  how  will  it  en- 
danger our  virtue  when  carried  to  excels  ?  how  un- 
P  p  fuitably 


3o6  ON   GOVERNING  [SeRM.  XXVI. 

fuitably  will  the  very  proud  man  behave  to  his  fel- 
low-creatures ?  Now  he  will  treat  them  with  info- 
lence ;  now  with  fupercilious  contempt.  Now  he 
will  demand  their  homage  ;  and  now  mortify  them 
by  his  affected  condefcenfion.  In  a  variety  of  ways, 
will  fuch  a  deteftable  character  ftudy  to  make  man- 
kind feel  their  inferiority.  How  criminal  this,  in 
the  fight  of  heaven,  let  the  reafon  of  every  man 
judge.  But  it  is  the  natural  confequence  of  ungov- 
erned  pride.  And  he,  who  has  a  proud  fpirit,  which 
he  will  not  attempt  to  rule,  hazards  not  only  his  in- 
nocence in  this  world,  but  his  well-being  in  that 
which  is  to  come. 

Every  paffion  has  its  temptation.  Anger,  a$  we 
have  obferved,  leads  to  violence  ;  felfifhnefs  to  dif* 
honefty  ;  pride  to  infolence ;  morofenefs  to  incivil- 
ity ;  envy  to  a  fecret,  but  malicious  plsafure,  at  the 
misfortunes  of  others  ;  and  malevolence  to  every 
crime  which  can  diflionour  and  degrade  human  na- 
ture. It  is  unneceffary  to  enter  into  a  long  detail  of 
the  many  deteftable  vices,  which  fpring  from  ungov- 
crned  paiTion.  Only  look  into  the  world,  and  you 
will  there  fee  its  fatal  effects^  A  city  without  walls 
is  not  more  expofed,  than  he,  who  hath  no  rule  over 
his  own  fpirit.  As  the  one  lies  at  the  mercy  of  ev- 
ery invader,  fo  does  the  other  lie  at  the  mercy  of 
every  fiend  of  darknefs. 

So  fatal,  then,  the  influence  of  paiKon  ;  fo  hazard- 
ous, both  here  and  hereafter,  let  every  man  ftudy 
his  own  natural  temper,  and  endeavour  to  regulate 
it  by  the  laws  of  the  gofpeL  The  chriflian  revela- 
tion prefents  us  the  moft  excellent  rules  of  moral 
conduct  ;  its  author,  the  beft  example.  Let  us  try 
our  temper  by  the  one  ;  let  us  compare  it  with  that 
©f  the  other.    Every  man  in  this  affembly  will  find, 

if 


SERMi  XXVI.]  THE   TEMPER.       -  507 

if  he  examine  himfelf,  that  fome  one  pafilon  takes 
the  lead.  Some  fm  befets  him  with  more  violence 
than  others.  On  fome  one  particular  fide,  tempta- 
tion makes  its  maft  frequent,  and  fuccefsful  attacks. 
What  fin  this  is,  and  which  is  his  weakeft  iide,  evi 
cry  man  may  difcover,  by  looking  into  his  own 
heart.  Then  fearch  yourfelves,  and  fee  what  is  your 
predominating  paffion,  and  endeavour  to  reftrain  it 
within  thofe  fober  bounds,  which  reafon,  and  the 
gofpel,  prefcribe.  Remember  you  are  rational  be- 
ings, and  that  all  excefTes  of  pallion  are  inconfiftent 
with  the  dignity  of  your  nature.  Rem.ember  you 
are  Chriftians,  and  that  they  are  exprefsly  forbidden 
by  the  gofpel.  Remember,  that  you  are  defigned 
for  another  ftate  or  exillence,  and  that  all  inordinate 
defires  will  unfit  you  for  the  pure  enjoyments  of 
heaven.  Flefhly  lufls  war  againft  the  foul ;  and  ev- 
ery other  ungoverned  appetite  is  as  fatal  in  its  ten- 
dency, as  pernicious  in  its  confequences. 

Every  motive  you  therefore  have  to  rule  your 
own  Spirit  j  and  if  you  ferioufly  make  the  attempt, 
you  may  promife  yourfelves  all  needed  afliftance. 
God  will  gracioufly  aid  you  in  a  work  fo  honourable, 
and  fo  beneficial.  If  you  pray  to  him,  he  will  give 
you  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need.  He  is  nigh 
to  all  them,  who  call  upon  him  :  and  he  will  ever 
grant  thofe  requefis,  which  are  agreeable  to  his  holy 
will.  Wherefore,  afk  of  him,  who  giveth  to  all  men 
liberally,  and  he  will  give  you  that  wifdom,  which  is 
profitable  to  dired.  He  will  enable  you  to  difcover 
your  own  fpirit ;  and  fo  to  rule  it,  that  you  will 
have  no  jufl  caufe  to  reproach  yourfelves  in  a  ferious 
hour. 

The  means  of  governing  your  peculiar  temper, 
are  refolution,  exercife,  watchfulneis,  and  prayer. 

M 


308  ON  GOVERNING,   Csfcf.         [SeRM.  XXVI. 

All  thefe  muft  be  employed,  if  you  would  have  the 
habitual  command  of  yourfelves.  A  few  indolent 
wifhes,  that  you  may  be  able  to  effect  this  conqueft, 
will  anfwer  no  end.  Many  perfons  lament  their  par- 
ticular temper,  who  ufe  no  endeavours  to  correft.  it. 
May  you  be  more  confiftent.  And  if  you  efteem  it 
an  unhappinefs  to  be  under  the  dominion  of  any 
paflion,  make  a  glorious  ftruggle  to  regain  your 
liberty. 

Finally— ^Let  thofe  in  younger  life  particularly 
ftudy  their  natural  temper,  and  endeavour  to  gain 
the  maftery  over  it.  If  they  begin  early,  they  will 
infallibly  fucceed.  The  work  will  then  be  compara- 
tively eafy.  Habits  will  not  be  formed.  Nor  will 
the  mind  have  acquired  that  unhappy  bias,  which 
yields  with  fo  much  difficulty  in  later  years.  For 
which  reafon,  begin  to  govern  your  temper,  as  foon 
•as  you  difcover  what  that  temper  is.  Be  refolute  and 
perfevering.  Watch  and  pray.  Set  before  your  eyes, 
Jefus  Chrift,  that  great  ornament  of  human  nature : 
and  if  you  approve  his  example,  walk  as  he  walked. 
So  will  you  find  the  moft  turbulent  paffions  yielding 
to  the  dominion  of  reafon  and  the  gofpel.  While 
others  are  like  the  troubled  fea,  which  knoweth  no 
reft,  you  will  enjoy  a  moft  delightful  tranquillity.— 
While  they  are  defencelefs  and  infecure,  you  will  be 
like  a  city  furrounded  with  walls  and  bulwarks  ;  no 
enemy  will  difturb  your  repofe.  Free  from  all  dan- 
ger, you  will  enjoy  yourfelves  in  this  world :  and  in 
the  world  to  come,  will  reap  the  reward  of  your  con* 
ftancy  and  zeal.  Having  overcome,  you  will  fit 
down  with  Jefus  on  his  throne,  and  fliare  his  tri* 
?imphs,  his  glory,  and  felicity. 


permon 


SeRM.  XXVIL]  immoderate  love,  Cffr.  30f 


)ennon  xxvir. 


On  the  immoderate  Love  of  Pleafure. 
2  Timothy,  hi.  4. 

•'  LOVERS  OF  PLEASURE,  MORE  THAN  LOVERS  OF  GOD." 

TO  perfons  in  every  ftation  and  period  of  life, 
thefe  words  of  the  infpired  apoftle  are  too  capa- 
ble of  a  general  application.  Mankind,  in  all  ages  of 
the  world,  are  governed  by  the  fame  paflions,  and 
engaged  in  the  fame  purfuits.  Pleafure,  in  fome  form 
or  other,  is  the  objedl,  which  attracts  them.  To  this, 
they  facrifice  honour  and  confcience  :  to  this,  they 
devote  their  time,  their  attention,  and  their  nobleft 
powers :  and  in  purfuit  of  this,  they  lofe  fight  of 
pleafures  far  more  exalted  in  degree,  and  endlefs  in 
duration  !  A  humiliating  thought !  but  not  more  hu- 
miliating, than  true  !  Look  into  the  world,  examine 
men  of  every  clafs,  Obferve  the  poor  and  the  rich, 
the  bond  and  the  free.  Confider  the  purfuits  of  age, 
and  the  amufements  of  the  young.  Take  an  impar- 
tial view  of  man,  and  then  fay,  whether,  collectively 
taken,  we  ^re  not  lovers  of  pleafure,  more  than  lovers  of 
Cod. 

In  thefe  words,  the  apoftle  had  a  particular  refer- 
ence to  a  degenerate  fet  of  Chriftians,  that  would  ap- 
pear, in  fome  future  period,  to  the  diftionour  of  the 
church,  and  the  fcandal  of  their  profeilion.  The 
prophecy  is  introduced  in  the  following  manner : 
^^  This  know  alfo,  that,  in  the  laft  days,  perilous 
times  fliall  come.    For  men  fliail  be  lovers  of  their 

ownfelves. 


31(3  IMMODKRATE  LOVE  [SeRM.  XXVII^ 

ownfelves,  covetous,  boafters,  proud,  blafphemers, 
difobedient  to  parents,  unthankful,  unholy,  without 
natural  affeftion,  truce-breakers,  felfe  accufers,  incon- 
tinent, fierce,  defpifers  of  thofe  that  are  good,  trai- 
tors, heady,  high-minded,  lovers  of  fleafurey  more  than 
lovers  of  God.**  To  prepare  his  fon  Timothy  for  fucli 
perilous  times,  and  the  confufion  that  would  be  in- 
troduced by  fuch  unworthy  char  afters,  the  apoftle 
thought  proper  to  utter  this  predidion.  And  wq 
are  too  well  acquainted  with  the  hiflory  of  the 
chriftian  church,  not  to  acknowledge,  that,  long 
before  this  time,  it  has  had  its  accomplifhment. — 
Soon  did  the  profeffors  of  Chriftianity  lofe  that  zeal 
for  God,  which  was  fuch  an  ornament  to  the  apof- 
flles,  and  their  immediate  fucceffors.  And  too  foon 
might  it  be  objected  to  i/je/Ji,  as  to  the  Chriftians  of 
the  prefent  day,  that  they  were  lovers  of  pleafure,  more 
ihan  lovers  of  God, 

The  love  of  pleafure  being,  therefore,  a  prevailing 
paflion,  I  fhall,  firft,  inquire,  how  far  it  may  be  inno- 
cently indulged. 

Secondly— I  Ihall  endeavour  to  fhow,  when  men 
become  criminal,  in  the  fenfe  of  the  text.     And, 

Thirdly — I  fliall  point  out  the  inconfiftency,  the 
folly,  the  ingratitude,  the  danger,  of  fuffering  the 
love  of  pleafure  to  interrupt,  and  much  more,  to 
banifh  the  love  of  God. 

First— -It  may  be  worth  inquiry,  how  far  we  may 
indulge  to  pleafure,  without  bringing  a  reproach  up- 
on our  religious  character.  And  from  the  nature 
and  conftitution  of  man,  it  is  evident,  that  God  did 
not  mean  to  debar  him  from  all  thofe  delights,  which 
arife  from  the  moderate  gratification  of  his  fenfes ; 
or  which  refult  from  his  particular  fituation  and  cir- 
cumftances  in  life.    We  are  furrounded  by  objeds, 

evidently 


Serm.  XXVII.]         or  PLEASURE.  3H 

evidently  calculated  to  afford  us  pleafure.  Wc  fed 
ourfelves  attracted  towards  them.  And  it  is  unrea- 
fonable  to  fuppofe  the  author  of  our  being  would 
have  placed  us  in  fuch  a  fituation,  had  it  been  his  in- 
tention that  we  Ihould  abftain  from  all  pleafures,  but 
thofe  of  a  moral  or  intelledual  kind.  Would  not 
this  be  unworthy  of  God  ?  Would  it  not  refleft  up- 
on the  wifdom  and  goodnefs  of  our  creator  ? 

To  thofe,  who  think  ferioufly  upon  the  fubjecl,  it 
muft  evidently  appear,  that  man  was  dcligned  for  in- 
ferior, as  well  as  fuperior  enjoyments.  He  is  a  com- 
pound being  ;  he  has  fenfe,  as  well  as  reafon  5  paf- 
iions,  as  well  as  judgment.  While,  therefore,  the 
one  reftrains,  he  may  certainly  indulge  the  other, 
without  ading  out  of  charader  as  a  rational  being, 
and  a  Chriftian.  Neither  reafon  nor  religion  forbid, 
that  we  fliould  enjoy  the  pleafures  of  fociety.  Wc 
were  formed  for  mutual  intercourfe.  We  derive 
great  fatisfadion  from  it.  And  we  fhould  not  be 
better  Chriftians,  fliould  we  retire  from  the  world, 
and  have  no  farther  commerce  with  our  fellow-crea- 
tures. Many  have  praclifed  this  piece  of  felf-denial. 
But  at  another  day  it  will  appear,  that  they  have  af- 
cended  no  higher  in  the  fcale  of  virtue,  than  thofe 
who  partook  of  an  innocent  and  rational  pleafure. 
However,  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the  oc- 
calional  enjoyment  of  each  other's  fociety,  and  living 
in  a  continual  throng.  If  fome  retire  from  the  world, 
others  are  fo  immerfed  in  it,  as  not  to  have  one  mo- 
ment for  fober  refle6tion.  This  error  is  worfe  than 
the  former.  And  when  carried  to  this  extreme,  the 
paffion  for  fociety  becomes  injurious,  and  the  pleaf- 
ures of  it  inconfiftent  with  thofe  nobler  pleafures,  for 
which  we  were  defigned. 

The  fame  reafoning  may  be  applied  to  fenfual 

gratifications. 


312  IMMODERATE  LOVE  [SeRM.  XXVU. 

gratifications.  Within  certain  reftraints,  they  are  not 
unlawful.  It  is  a  miftake  to  fuppofe,  we  muft  mor- 
tify all  thofe  appetites,  which  God  has  implanted  in 
us.  When  the  earth  yields  her  increafe,  we  are  not 
to  throw  back  thefe  bounties  upon  their  gracious  au- 
thor. We  are  not  to  content  ourfelves  with  the 
fcanty  morfel,  or  to  flake  our  thirft  at  the  running 
ftream,  becaufe  the  pleafures  of  an  epicure  are  mean 
and  degrading.  There  is  a  medium  in  all  things ; 
and  to  obferve  this  medium,  is  the  part  of  a  wife 
man,  and  a  Chriftian. 

Again — Religion  does  not  forbid  occafiortal  re- 
laxation from  the  bufinefs  of  life,  and  fuch  amufe- 
ments  as  are  calculated  to  promote  the  health,  at  the 
fame  time  that  they  afford  us  particular  pleafure* 
Intenfe  application  is  equally  prejudicial  to  body  and 
mind.  "  Our  ftrength  is  not  the  ftrength  of  ftones, 
nor  is  our  flefli  of  brafs."  Nature  would  fail,  were 
it  not  feafonably  relieved,  and  the  greateft  relief  it 
finds  is  innocent  amufement.  But,  to  the  moft  un- 
difcerning  eye,  there  muft  appear  an  effential  differ- 
ence between  occalional  relaxation,  and  a  life  of  in- 
dolence ;  between  occafional  amufement,  and  a  life 
of  diffipation.  The  former  is  perfectly  innocent,  and 
neceffary  for  creatures  of  our  rank  and  conftitution. 
The  latter  is  criminal,  is  degrading,  is  attended  with 
very  unhappy  confequences,  both  in  this  world,  and 
in  the  world  to  come. 

Considering,  therefore,  the  nature  of  man,  his 
animal  defires,  and  various  iiifirmities,  we  may  con- 
clude, that  the  pleafures  of  fenfe  are  not,  in  every 
degree,  abiblutely  unlawful.  The  contrary  may  be 
inferred  from  his  bodily  conftitution.  For  which 
reafon,  they  have  been  ftrangely  infatuaied,  who 
have  fuppofed,  that  the  mortification  of  every  natu- 
ral 


SeRM.  XXVII.]  OF    PLEASURE.  313 

ral  defire  was  an  eflbntial  part  of  chriftian  duty.— - 
Need  I  mention,  that  enthufiafts  of  this  kind  have, 
at  certain  periods,  fwarmed  in  the  church  ?  Many, 
during  the  reign  of  ignorance  and  fuperftition,  re- 
tired from  the  world,  denied  themfelves  the  comforts 
of  life,  and  wore  out  a  miferable  exiftence,  in  watch- 
ing, nakednefs,  toil,  and  want.  This  is  a  facrifice, 
that  religion  never  exaded.  And  he,  that  volunta- 
rily makes  it,  proves  that  he  has  no  juft  idea  of  God 
or  his  duty ;  that  he  is  ignorant  of  the  conftitution 
of  human  nature,  and  a  ftranger  to  the  true  fpirit  o£ 
the  gofpel.  Thus  much  I  thought  it  neceffary  to  fay, 
in  order  to  prevent  any  prejudice,  that  might  be 
readily  conceived  againft  the  remaining  part  of  this 
difcourfe*  For  certain  it  is,  all  prefent  enjoyment  is 
not  inconliftent  with  our  hopes  as  Chriftians.  Nor 
is  it  any  proof  that  a  man  has  not  a  predominant  re- 
gard for  his  creator,  becaufe  he  fweetens  his  journey 
by  fome  of  thdfe  inferior  gratifications,  which  heaven 
has  placed  within  his  reach.  He  may  do  this,  and 
yet  not  be  a  "  lover  ofpleafure,  more  than  a  lover  of  God."* 
Having  thus  fliown  when  a  man  is  not,  I  now  pro- 
ceed to  inquire,  fecondly,  when  he  is  culpable  in  the 
fenfe  of  the  text.  And  when  pleafure  is  the  princi- 
pal objed  of  his  purfuit ;  when  he  fubordinates  ev- 
ery other  paflion  to  the  love  of  it  ;  when  all  his  de- 
fires  and  wiflies  terminate  in  pleafure,  we  may  then 
accufe  him  with  the  inconfiftency,  which  was  fore- 
feen  and  predicted  by  the  apoflle.  Of  this,  we  have 
all,  perhaps,  many  degrading  inftances  within  the 
circle  of  our  own  acquaintance.  Some  men  we  per- 
ceive wholly  devoted  to  the  gratification  of  their  fen- 
fual  appetites.  Their  only  inquiry  is,  what  fhail  we 
eat  ?  What  Ihall  we  drink  ?  Vaft  funis  are  daily  ex- 
pended to  furnifh  their  tables.  And  ihey  defire  no 
(^q  other 


314  IMMODERATE    LOVE  [SeRM.  XXVIli       ^ 

Other  happinefs,  than  to  pamper  their  appetites,  and 
to  feaft  upon  thofe  luxuries,  which  the  various  parts 
of  the  globe  contribute  to  fupply.  This  is  indulging 
the  meancft  of  all  pafllons,  and  being  devoted  to  the 
meaneft  of  all  pleafurcs.  The  epicurean  is  a  difgrace 
to  human  nature.  His  character  is  drawn  by  the 
apollle  in  a  few  words,  but  in  words  which  admira- 
bly exprefs  the  infamy  of  it.  "  Whofe  God  is  his 
belly,  whofe  glory  is  his  fliame,  who  minds  earthly 
things.'*  Such  unworthy  perfons  there  are  in  the 
world  ;  and  they  may  be  juftly  faid  to  be  lovers  of 
pleafure,  more  than  lovers  of  God  :  to  prefer  a  gratifica- 
tion of  the  moft  inferior  kind,  to  a  more  diftant, 
though  infinitely  fuperior  felicity. 

In  the  fame  defcription  are  thofe  alfo  included, 
who  live  in  a  continual  throng ;  whofe  only  employ- 
ment it  is,  to  devife  fome  new  amufement,  or  to  par- 
take of  thofe  fafhionable  diverfions,  to  which  the 
folly  of  mankind  has  given  a  fanclion.  We  fee  per- 
fons, who  have  no  other  idea  of  life,  than  a  life  of 
pleafure.  To  devote  their  time  and  talents  to  the 
jfervice  of  the  public,  to  feek  the  good  of  their  own 
family,  or  the  improvement  of  their  own  minds, 
would  be  worfe  than  death.  For  which  reafon,  they 
never  fuffer  a  ferious  or  ufeful  thought  to  engage 
their  attention.  When  they  rife,  it  is  to  enter  the 
gay  circle  of  pleafure,  and  to  banifli  thofe  foes  to  the 
men  of  this  world,  time  and  refleclion.  As  the  day 
is. begun,  fo  it  is  ended,  in  mirth  and  recreation. 
From  their  conduct,  v/e  fhould  be  led  to  fuppofe, 
that  we  were  called  into  exiftence  for  no  other  end, 
but  that  we  might  eat  and  drink,  and  rife  up  to  play. 

Such  an  abufe  of  time,  and  proftitution  of  talents, 
common  in  all  countries,  is  no  fingularity  in  our  own. 
Among,  usj  there  are  men  of  pleafure  ;   men,  who 

prefer 


Serm.  XXVII.]         OF  pleasure;  31^, 

prefer  the  inferior  gratifications  of  fenfe  to  the  fupe- 
rior  joys  of  religion.  And  the  general  tenour  of  their 
lives  is  a  moft  ftriking  comment  upon  the  text. — 
Would  you  know  who  are  lovers  of-pleafiire,  more  than 
hvers  of  God,  obferve  the  fons  of  riot  and  diffipation. 
Liften  to  their  vain  and  frothy  converfation.  See 
them  forfake  the  houfe  of  worfhip,  for  the  fociety  of 
fools  :  fee  them  defert  the  wife  and  good,  for  the 
moft  inferior  of  the  human  kind  :  fee  them  engaged 
in  rioting  and  drunkennefs,  chambering  and  wanton- 
nefs :  fee  them  in  the  eager  purfuit  of  every  forbid- 
den pleafure.  C4ritically  examine  the  man  of  gal- 
lantry, the  rake,  and  debauchee,  and  you  will  then 
fee  a  living  comment  upon  the  words  of  the  apoftle. 

In  fiiort,  we  are  all  criminal  in  the  fight  of  God, 
when  pleafure,  in  any  form,  diverts  our  attention 
from  the  end  of  our  creation  ;  or  when  we  purfue  it 
to  a  degree,  which  rather  injures  nature,  than  re- 
lieves it.  We  acl  a  very  unworthy  part,  when  we 
fuffer  the  love  of  it  to  banifli  God  from  any  of  our 
thoughts.  When  we  fpend  our  days  in  vanity,  and 
thofe  hours,  which  fhould  be  devoted  to  religion,  in 
the  moft  trifling  amufements ;  when  we  think  it  fol- 
itude  to  be  alone,  and  can  never  endure  a  moment, 
but  in  their  fociety,  who  fondly  imagine  they  have 
difcovered  the  beft  improvement  of  human  life  j 
when  we  prefer  men  of  pleafure  to  men  of  religion, 
the  houfe  of  entertainment  to  the  houfe  of  worftiip, 
the  productions  of  a  wanton  imagination  to  the  fa- 
cred  fcriptures  ;  when,  in  one  word,  we  do  not  have 
a  continual  refped  to  God  and  our  duty,  even  when 
moft  intent  upon  prefent  enjoyment,  we  may  fee  our 
own  character  in  the  defcription  of  the  apoftle. 

But  I  haften,  thirdly,  to  point  out  the  inconfiften- 
cy,  the  ingratitude,  the  folly,  the  danger,  of  fuffering 

tUe 


3l6  IMMODERATE  LOVE  [SeRM.  XXVII* 

the  love  of  pleafure  to  interrupt,  much  more  to  ex- 
tinguifh  the  love  of  God.  And  certainly  the  divine 
being  has  an  unqueftionable  right  to  our  fupreme  af- 
fe6tion.  We  are  bound,  by  the  ftrongefl.  ties,  to 
love  and  honour  him.  To  him  we  are  indebted  for 
our  exiftence,  and  the  various  powers  of  body  and 
mind.  It  is  he  that  feeds  and  clothes  us  ;  that  raifes 
us,  when  depreffed ;  that  comforts  us,  when  feeble 
hearted ;  that  crowns  us  with  loving  kindnefs  and 
tender  mercy.  Nor  has  he  confined  his  favours  to 
the  life  which  now  is.  To  a  nobler  and  a  better  ftate, 
lie  has  taught  us  to  extend  our  views ;  and  has 
promifed  us,  when  qualified  for  it,  an  everlafting 
happy  exiftence  in  the  kingdom  of  glory. 

When  we  ponfider  thefe  things,  can  we  balance 
one  moment,  whether  God,  or  the  tranfitory  pleaf- 
ures  of  this  life,  ihall  be  the  objed:  of  our  afFedion  ? 
Shall  not  he,  who  made  and  preferves  us  ;  he,  who 
has  fo  loved  us,  as  to  fend  his  fon  for  our  redemp* 
tion  ;  he,  who  has  provided  for  us  a  kingdom,  which 
cannot  be  moved  ;  he,  who  has  deftiited  us  to  pleaf*- 
ures,  which  eye  hath  not  feen,  nor  ear  heard  ;  fhall 
not  he  infpire  a  fupreme  and  unalterable  affection  ? 
Shall  not  a  bemg  of  fo  much  goodnefs,  command 
our  whole  hearts  ?  Shall  we  have  any  other  gods  be- 
fide  him  ?  In  point  of  gratitude,  we  cannot  be  lovers 
of  pleafure,  more  than  lovers  of  him  ;  or,  in  any 
one  inftance,  facrifice  duty  to  an  inferior  gratifica* 
tion.  If  we  do,  we  call  in  queftion  the  ingenuity 
of  our  hearts  ;  and  prove,  that  we  are  utterly  un- 
poffeffed  of  that  lively  fenfe  of  obligation,  which 
beings,  fo  highly  favoured  as  we  are,  ought  always 
to  entertain. 

But,  fecondly — It  is  not  only  ingratefuJ^  but  in- 
consistent, to  the  laft  degree,  to  be  lovers  of  pleaf- 
ure^ 


SeRM.  XXVII.]  or   PLEASURK.  ^ly 

are,  more  than  lovers  of  God,  We  profefs  to  be  Chrit 
tians  ;  and  as  fuqh,  have  come  into  a  folemn  engage- 
ment to  love  God  with  all  our  hearts,  with  all  our 
foul,  with  all  our  ftrength,  with  all  our  mind.  This 
is  the  firft  and  great  commandment.  To  this  we 
have  yielded  our  unfeigned  affent  ;  and  we  cannot 
but  own  the  juftice  and  obligation  of  it.  And  fiiall 
we  dare  to  violate  a  law,  which  we  know  to  be 
founded  in  ftrict  juftice  ?  Shall  we  tranfgrefs  a  com- 
mand,  to  which  we  have  foiemnly  fubfcribed  ?  Shall 
we  own  in  words,  what  we  difown  in  reality  ?  The 
inconliflency  of  fuch  behaviour  muft  be  apparent  to 
all,  who  are  not  blinded  by  their  lufts,  and  hardened 
through  the  deceitfulnefs  of  fin. 

As  believers  in  the  chriftian  revelation,  we  ought 
to  devote  our  whole  fouls  to  the  love,  and  all  our 
powers  to  the  fervice  of  our  maker.  By  embracing 
that  religion,  we  profefs  to  look  with  a  comparative 
indifference  upon  all  the  pleafures  of  time  and  fenfe. 
Whatever  our  practice  may  be,  it  is  our  language, 
that  in  heaven  there  is  none  like  God ;  nor  on  earth, 
any  to  be  compared  unto  him.  Wherefore,  in  us,  it 
is  the  height  of  inconfiftency,  to  lead  a  life  of  pleaf- 
ure,  regardlefs  of  our  honour,  our  true  intereft,  our 
religious  profeffion,  and  our  God.  It  is  utterly  irre- 
concilable with  our  nature  as  men  ;  and  much  more 
fo,  with  our  obligations  as  the  difciples  of  the  blef^ 
fed  Jefus. 

But,  thirdly — -It  is  extreme  folly  to  fuflfer  any 
prefent  gratification  to  fteal  away  our  afFedions  from 
the  author  of  our  being.  It  is  a  preference  that  re* 
fleets  upon  our  underftanding.  It  fhcws  that  we 
have  no  moral  tafte,  and  that  our  fpiritual  difcern- 
ment  is  greatly  vitiated.  Is  it  folly  to  prefer  a  fhad^ 
ow  to  the  fubflance,  a  glittering  toy  to  a  real  gem  ? 

much 


3l8  IMMODERATE   LOVE  [SeRM.  XXVII. 

Much  greater  folly  is  it  to  prefer  a  mere  flafh  of  joy, 
to  thofe  endlefs  pleafures.  which  are  connected  with 
the  love  of  our  maker,  and  which  will  infallibly  flow 
from  it  as  its  future  reward.  Granting  we  might 
indulge  every  defire  of  the  flefh  and  the  mind  ; 
granting  we  might  range  the  whole  field  of  forbid- 
den pleafure  ;  fhould  we  procure  any  real  fatisfadion ^ 
fliould  we  enjoy  any  lafting  felicity  ?  by  no  means. 
The  pleafures  of  fenfe  are  but  for  a  feafon.  They 
2re  like  the  morning  cloud  and  early  dew.  It  is  but 
a  moment  we  are  capable  of  enjoying  them  ;  and 
when  paft,  they  leave  the  moft  tormenting  reflexions 
behind.  Can  any  man,  can  any  Chriftian,  then,  be 
devoted  to  pleafures  fo  fleeting  and  unfubftantial  ? 
Is  it  not  madnefs  to  purfue  them  with  that  ardour, 
which  is  fo  common  with  men  of  the  world  ? 

But,  fourthly — An  inordinate  love  of  pleafure  is 
attended  with  extreme  danger,  as  the  natural  ten- 
dency of  it  is  to  prevent  our  fpiritual  improvement, 
and  unfit  us  for  thofe  immortal  joys,  which  are  prom- 
ifed  in  the  gofpel.  He  that  liveth  in  pleafure,  is  dead 
while  he  liveth  ;  dead  to  the  charms  of  virtue,  and 
beauty  of  holinefs  ;  dead  to  the  true  end  of  his 
creation  ;  dead  to  all  thofe  moral  purpofes,  for  which 
the  divine  being  gave  him  exiflence.  Though  he 
may  have  a  name  to  Hve,  yet  fuch  a  perfon  is  fpirit- 
ually  dead. 

And  the  hazard  is  extremely  great,  that  he  will 
fail  of  that  happinefs,  which  is  promifed  to  the  righ- 
teous in  the  refurreclion-fi:ate.  How  can  he  enjoy 
that  being,  who  is  not  the  objed:  of  his  highefl  af- 
fection ?  How  can  he  relifli  the  pleafures  of  that 
fiate,  when  the  pleafures  of  time  and  fenfe  have  en- 
groffed  his  whole  attention  ?  In  heaven,  there  are 
no  fenfual  gratifications.     The  gofpel  paradife  is  not 

like 


SeRM.  XXVIL]  OF    PLEASURE.  3I5 

like  that  of  Mahomet  :  it  is  not  fuch  as  an  epicu- 
rean, or  a  debauchee,  would  invent.  Its  joys  are 
pure  and  fpiritual  ;  they  are  the  joys  of  angels,  and 
not  the  {hort-lived  extafies  of  a  fenfualift.  Where- 
fore, the  fenfualift  will  be  excluded  from  them,  as  not 
only  unworthy,  but  incapable  of  tafting  fuch  exalted 
felicity  ! 

Such,  my  hearers,  being  the  inconliftency,  the 
folly,  the  ingratitude,  the  danger  of  an  inordinate 
'  love  of  pleafure,  let  me  caution  you  againft  this  de- 
baling  paflion.  *At  this  period,  we  are  peculiarly 
expoied  to  the  hazard  of  preferring  pleafure  to  our 
duty  ;  and  the  vain  amufements  of  this  world,  to  the 
promifed  joys  of  that  which  is  to  come.  A  fpirit  of 
diflipation  pervades  all  orders.  Inftead  of  a  patriotic 
folicitude  for  tlie  good  of  our  country  ;  inftead  of  a 
pious  concern  for  the  good  of  our  fouls,  we  appear 
to  be  anxious  only  to  gratify  our  fenfes,  and  feize 
our  lliare  of  prefent  pleafure,  as  we  pafs  through  life.  ^ 
Our  diilipation,  extravagance,  and  indolence,  afton- 
ifli  older  countries.  They  excite  the  admiration  of 
thofe  who  are  indifferent  about  our  happinefs  ;  they 
mortify  our  friends,  and  gratify  fuch  as  wilh  our  ruin. 

At  a  time  when  we  are  burdened  with  a  public 
debt  ;  when  trade  is  againft  us  ;  and  our  refources 
not  at  command  ;  at  fuch  a  time,  is  not  an  inordi- 
nate love  of  pleafure  a  fatal  pallion  ?  Is  it  not  impol- 
itic in  perfons,  thus  circumftanced,  to  indulge  to  fuch 
amufements,  as  are  attended  with  great  expenfe,  and 
ftill  greater  lofs  of  time  ?  Will  it  not  bring  on  em- 
bariraflments,  from  which  it  will  require  more  than 
human  wifdom  to  extricate  ourfelves  ?  Will  not  our 
country  elTentially  fuffer,  if  this  fpirit  prevails  ?  Con- 

lider 

*  la  the  year  1785. 


320  IMMODERATE    LOVg,  esf<r.      [SeRM.  XXVit 

iider  the  natural  tendency  of  it,  and  aik  yourfelves 
what  muft  be  the  event. 

"  For  the  encouragement  of  piety,  virtue,  educa- 
tion, and  manners,  and  for  the  fuppreffion  of  vice," 
our  commander  in  chief  has  iluied  out  his  proclama- 
tion. Deeply  imprefled  with  the  importance  of  the 
fubjecl,  he  has  called  upon  the  citizens  at  large,  and 
upon  all  in  authority  and  influence,  upon  minifters 
of  the  gofpel,  and  inftruclers  of  youth,  to  exert  them* 
felves  in  their  feveral  departments,  in  order  to  infpire 
that  reverence,  which  is  due  to  the  fupreme  gov- 
ernour  of  the  world  ;  and  to  promote  thofe  virtues, 
which  only  can  fupport  our  happy  conftitution.  Let 
us  not  receive  thefe  directions  as  a  matter  of  courfe. 
They  are  certainly  founded  in  wifdom ;  and  uniform 
experience  muft  convince  us,  that  if  carried  into  ef- 
fed,  they  cannot  fail  of  producing  the  moft  happy 
confequences* 

But,  before  the  objed  of  this  proclamation  can 
be  obtained,  we  muft  conquer  our  unreafonable  love 
of  pleafure.  The  love  of  pleafure,  like  the  l»ve  of 
money,  is  the  root  of  many  evils.  While  we  retain 
this  paflion,  we  fhall  be  as  poor  citizens  as  we  are 
Chriftians.  While  we  prefer  pleafure  to  God,  we 
fliall  not  reverence  his  name,  or  his  holy  day,  his 
facred  word,  or  his  divine  worlhip.  Immcrfed  irt 
pleafure,  we  fliall  be  loft  to  all  decency  of  manners, 
fobriety,  temperance,  the  love  of  our  country,  and 
a  generous  zeal  for  its  welfare.  Profanenefs,  idle- 
nefs,  gaming,  drunkennefs,  and  every  other  fpecies 
of  vice,  naturally  grow  out  of  this  paffion.  Where- 
fore, as  menibers  of  civil  fociety,  let  us  guard  againft 
it  ;  but  more  efpecially  as  the  profefied  difciples  of 
Jefus  Chrift.  Believing  and  profeffing  a  religion, 
which  teaches  us  better  things,  let  us  live  and  ad  up 

to 


SeRM.  XXVIII.]  ON   FRIENDSHIP.  ^II 

to  the  fpirit  of  it.  Let  the  time  paft  fufEce,  and 
more  than  fufEce,  wherein  we  have  ferved  divers 
lufts,  and  lived  in  vanity  and  pleafure.  And  for  the 
time  to  come,  let  us  live  like  Chriftians,  preferring 
duty  to  every  prefent  enjoyment,  and  carefully  walk- 
ing in  all  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of  the 
Lord  blamelefs.  Then  may  we  hope,  that  God  will 
delight  in  us,  and  blefs  us  as  a  people  ;  that  he  will 
extricate  us  from  all  our  embarraflments  ;  that  he 
will  give  us  favour  in  the  eyes  of  other  nations ;  that 
we  fhall  be  happy  as  citizens,  happier  as  Chriftians  ; 
that  having  turned  from  the  tempting  path  of  for- 
bidden pleafure,  we  fliall  be  finally  admitted  to  plea- 
fures  without  allay,  and  joys  that  never  fade. 


tnnon  xxviii. 


On  Friendlhip. 


John  xxi.  2o» 

"  THEN    PETER,  TURNING    ABOUT,  SEETH    THE    DISCI- 
PLE   WHOM    JESUS    LOVED." 

FROM  various  circumftances  in  his  life,  it  ap- 
pears, that  our  blefled  Saviour  was  no  ftranger 
to  the  fecial  afTeftions ;  but  enjoyed,  in  a  very  high 
degree,  the  pleafures  of  fociety  and  friendlhip.  The 
companions  of  his  youth,  or  thofe  with  whom  he 
formed  the  earlieft  connexion,  are  not  particularly 
mentioned  in  the  facred  pages.  But,  no  fooner  had 
Rr  he 


322  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVIII, 

he  afTumed  the  charader  of  a  public  teacher,  than  we 
find  him  aflbciating  with  perfons,  whom  he  had 
chofen  for  his  companions  and  friends,  to  whom  he 
unbofomed  himfelf,  and  with  whom  he  lived  in  the 
mofl  familiar  and  agreeable  manner.  Of  thefe  high- 
ly favoured  objeds  of  his  affedion,  one  enjoyed  an 
uncommon  fliare  of  his  confidence  and  love.  That 
was  John.  Something  our  Lord  faw  in  his  charac- 
ter, which  raifed  him  above  the  other  difciples,  and 
rendered  him  more  worthy  of  his  high  regard.  Ac- 
cordingly he  was  admitted  to  the  greateft  intimacy 
with  the  bleffed  Jefus.  He  was  known  to  be  the  fa- 
vourite difciple.  And  he  was  emphatically  flyled, 
the  difciple  ivhom  Jefus  loved* 

This  circumftance  leads  to  fome  very  ferious  and 
ufeful  refledions.  It  is  capable  of  a  wife  improve- 
ment by  us,  for  whofe  inftrudion  it  was  recorded. 
And  with  this  view  I  have  made  it  the  fubjed  of  my 
difcourfe. 

In  the  lirft  place,  I  fliall  conflder  the  generous  and 
ardent  affedion,  which  warmed  the  bofom  of  our  di- 
vine Lord. 

Secondly — the  objed  and  foundation  of  it. 

Thirdly — the  manner  of  its  operation.     And, 

Finally — the  conclufions  we  are  to  draw  from 
this  circumftance  in  our  Saviour's  life,  and  the  moral 
lelTons  It  inculcates  upon  us. 

First — I  am  to  confider  the  generous  and  ardent 
affedion,  which  the  Lord  Jefus  entertained  for  one 
of  his  difciples.  This  did  not  interfere  with  his 
compaffionate  regard  for  the  whole  human  kind. — 
He  loved  all  the  apoftate  children  of  men ;  and  he 
was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  their  fake,  though 
he  did  not  difcover  in  them,  thofe  virtues  and  graces, 
which  were  fo  attradive  in  the  charader  of  John.— 

Little 


SeRM.  XXVIII.]  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  ^25 

Little  minds  cannot,  at  the  fame  time,  entertain  ma- 
ny objects.  If  they  love  one,  they  are  too  apt  to 
hate  others  ;  and  if  they  hold  to  one,  to  dcfpife 
others.  That  they  cannot  be  true  to  a  friend,  with- 
out rejefling  the  reft  of  mankind,  feems  to  be  a  pre- 
vailing fentiment  with  many,  who  would  be  thought 
to  poflefs  the  fecial  feelings  in  a  very  high  degree. 

Should  any,  here  prefent,  entertain  this  illiberal 
idea,  they  may  be  undeceived  by  the  example  of  our 
Lord.  He  was  univerfally  benevolent,  while  he  fup- 
ported  the  amiable  charader  of  a  private  friend. — 
He  loved  his  very  enemies,  while  he  loved  his  difci- 
ple  John.  His  affection  for  this  delirable  objed  did 
not  blind  his  eyes  to  the  good  qualities  of  other  men, 
nor  render  him  indifferent  about  their  fate.  With 
feelings  of  the  moft  tender,  and  diftrefling  nature,  he 
beheld  the  ruined  ftate  of  mankind.  He  faw  that  all 
had  gone  aftray :  that  the  paths  of  virtue  and  relig- 
ion w^ere  deferted  :  that  darknefs  had  overfpread  the 
land,  and  thick  darknefs  the  nations  :  that  a  corrupt 
and  debaling  fuperftition  had  ufurped  the  place  of 
rational  piety :  that  there  were  nqne  good :  and  that 
mankind  mufl  perifli  without  his  afliftance.  All  this 
he  faw,  and  it  excited  his  compaflion.  Private  friend- 
Ihip  did  not  divert  his  attention  from  thefe  miferable 
objeds,  nor  indifpofe  him  to  the  common  offices  of 
humanity.  His  heart  was  large  enough  to  entertain 
the  beloved  difciple^  and  all  whofe  moral  ftate  pleaded 
for  mercy. 

From  what  has  been  faid,  you  may  form,  then,  a 
juft  idea  of  the  feelings,  with  which  our  blelfed  Sa- 
viour regarded  one  of  his  followers  ;  and  of  the  na- 
ture and  degree  of  that  friendfhip,  which  is  afcribed 
to  him  in  the  text.  He  loved  the  amiable  John,  as 
•ne  good  man  loves  another,  in  whom  he  difcovers 

fomething 


324  ON  FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVUI. 

fomcthing  beyond  the  common  ftandard  of  human 
excellence.  His  afFe<51:ion  was  rational,  pure,  and  ar- 
dent. It  was  not  to  turn  with  every  tide ;  to  change 
with  accident  ;  or  to  wear  out  with  time.  It  was 
not  like  the  fickle  friendlhip  of  the  men  of  this 
world,  which  is  no  more  than  a  mercenary  league, 
that  vv'ill  terminate,  of  courfe,  when  intereft  no  long- 
er binds  them.  The  affeclion,  which  our  Lord  pro- 
feffed,  he  really  entertained.  And  the  love,  with 
>yhich  he  honoured  his  difciple  John,  was  of  that 
kind,  which  many  waters  could  not  quench,  nor 
even  floods  drown.  It  had  a  fure  foundation.  And 
it  was  productive  of  no  injury  to  the  reft  of  man- 
kind. 

From  the  affection  itfelf,  I  proceed,  in  the  fecond 
place,  to  a  more  particular  confideration  of  the  object 
and  ground  of  it.  And  it  is  very  reafonable  to  fup- 
pofe,  our  Lord  would  not  have  admitted  John  to  the 
honour  of  his  friendihip,  had  there  not  been  fome- 
thing  uncommonly  attractive  in  his  character.  Jefus 
Chrift  adted,  in  no  inftance,  from  mere  caprice.  He 
\Yas  a  ftranger  to  thofc  groundlefs  prejudices,  which 
have  a  furprifing  influence  over  the  human  heart. — r 
He  was  incapable  of  them.  For  every  part  of  his  con- 
duct, he  could  always  aflign  a  juft  reafon.  If,  there- 
fore, he  did  actually  prefer  John  to  his  other  difci- 
pies,  it  was  becaufe  there  was  fomething  in  him, 
which  they  could  not  boaft,  and  which  rendered 
him,  on  the  whole,  deferving  of  this  preference. 

And  if  we  carefully  examine  and  compare  the  ac- 
counts we  have  of  this  beloved  difciple,  we  fhall  find, 
he  was  a  moft  amiable  and  exalted  character.  The 
facred  writers  have  not,  indeed,  enlarged  upon  his 
fl;ory.  And  modefty  would  not  fuffer  him  to  enter- 
tain the  v/orld  with  his  own  memoirs.     We  may, 

however. 


SeRM.  XXVIIIJ  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  33^ 

however,  collect  fo  many  particulars  relative  to  him, 
as  to  juftify  the  conclufion,  that,  of  all  the  difciples, 
John  had  the  beft  claim  to  the  private  friendlhip  of 
his  Lord, 

A  VERY  diftinguiftiable  trait  in  his  character,  is  a 
principle  of  univerfal  benevolence.  All  his  writings 
lireathe  this  moft  excellent  fpirit.  His  epiftles  are  but 
a  comment  upon  the  nature  and  obligation  of  chrif- 
tian  love.  To  this  teft,  he  brings  all  the  profefi'ed  be- 
lievers in  the  religion  of  Jefus ;  by  this,  he  tries  their 
fincerity  ;  and  as  they  abound  in  charity,  or  appear 
deftitute  of  it,  he  pronounces  them  children  of  God, 
or  the  devil.  I  mull  quote  a  great  part  of  his  epif- 
tles, was  I  to  produce  every  thing  he  has  advanced 
in  favour  of  this  godlike  habit.  He  has  certainly 
drawn  a  moft  beautiful  portrait  of  chriftian  benevo- 
lence. And,  without  all  difpute,  he  has  taken  the 
likenefs  from  his  own  heart.  In  defcribing  the  be- 
nevolent fpirit  of  the  gofpel,  he  has  only  given  a  de- 
fcription  of  his  own  temper. 

Thus  amiable  in  his  difpofition,  thus  formed  for 
love,  and  habitually  inclined  to  do  good,  no  wonder 
the  blelTed  Jefus  conceived  a  moil  tender  afFeclion  for 
this  difciple,  His  heart  was  fo  much  like  his  own, 
that  he  could  not  refift  the  natural  defire  of  entering 
into  the  moft  endearing  connexion  with  him.  He 
faw  a  breaft  warmed  and  expanded  with  pure  benev- 
olence. He  beheld  a  foul  endued  with  that  amiable 
fenfibility,  which  does  honour  to  human  nature.  He 
faw,  in  fhort,  a  miniature  of  himfelf ;  one,  who  was 
actuated  by  fimiiar  motives  ;  one,  v/ho  felt  a  gene- 
rous regard  for  all  his  fpecies  ;  whofe  love  was 
without  difiimulation,  and  who  could  conceive  of  no 
higher  feHcity,  than  in  promoting  the  happinefs  of 
his  fellow-creatures.     Finding  fuch  an  excellent  dif- 

pofitioq 


326  ON   FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVIIL 

pofition  among  the  children  of  men,  he  thought 
proper,  therefore,  to  diftinguifh  it  by  his  particular 
approbation.  Accordingly,  John  was  admitted  to 
his  friendftiip,  and  honoured  beyond  the  other  dif- 
ciples,  as  bearing  a  nearer  refemblance  of  his  heav- 
enly matter. 

A  SUPERIOR  degree  of  benevolence  was  a  very 
juft  ground  for  that  fuperior  affection,  which  the  be- 
loved difciple  infpired.  Whom  do  we  moft  admire  ? 
Who  do  moft  effeftually  infinuate  themfelves  into 
our  hearts  ?  The  hero,  the  philofopher,  the  rich,  the 
powerful  ;  are  thefe  the  perfons,  with  whom  we  are 
moft  delighted  ?  Their  a6lions  do  we  fecretly  ap- 
plaud ?  And  if  we  fpeak  the  genuine  fentiments  of 
our  hearts,  fhall  we  proclaim  them  the  objeds  of 
our  undiffembled  affection  ?  by  no  means.  They 
may  excite  our  fears,  or  infpire  our  admiration  ; 
but,  unlefs  they  refemble  the  objed  before  us,  in  the 
benevolent  part  of  his  character,  it  is  impollible  they 
Ihould  win  our  fouls.  We  may  flatter,  but  we  can- 
not love.  We  may  addrefs  them  in  the  language  of 
friendfhip,  but  it  is  impoflible  we  fhould  entertain 
that  ardent  affection,  with  which  this  language  ought 
always  to  be  accompanied.  He  only,  who  polTeffes 
the  happy  temper  of  this  apoftle,  can  be  the  real  ob- 
ject of  our  regard.  The  friend  of  Chrift  muft  be 
our  friend,  if  we  have  any  ideas  of  moral  excellence, 
or  know  any  diftinction  of  character. 

It  appears,  then,  that  our  blelTed  Saviour  had  a 
particular  regard  for  his  difciple  John  ;  and  that  his 
amiable  temper  was  the  probable  ground  of  his  fu- 
perior affection.  I  do  not  mention  this,  to  derogate 
from  his  other  virtues.  No  doubt  he  had  the  zeal 
of  Peter,  without  his  raftinefs  ;  that  his  faith  was 
equally  ftrong  ;  that  in  time  of  danger,  he  was  more 

intrepid ; 


S£RM.  XXVIII.]  ON    FRIENDSHIP,  32/ 

intrepid  ;  and  that  he  was  confpicuous  for  all  thofe 
graces,  which  adorned  the  early  followers  of  our  di- 
vine Lord.  From  no  circumftance  in  his  life,  can 
we  conclude,  that  he  was  inferior  to  the  other  difci- 
ples  in  any  refpeft.  Benevolence,  however,  being  a 
very  confpicuous  part  of  his  charafter,  this  will  nat- 
urally account  for  the  preference  Ihewn  him. 

Having  coniidered  the  fadl  itfelf,  that  Jefus  had  a 
pat-ticular  friend  ;  and  endeavoured  to  allign  the  rea- 
fon  why  John  was  admitted  to  this  honour,  I  proceed, 
thirdly,  to  the  manner  in  which  our  Lord  expreflbd 
his  generous  regard.  And  no  doubt,  in  the  prefence 
of  his  other  difciples,  he  might  often  teftify  his  fupe- 
rior  affedion  for  this  amiable  follower.  Certain  it 
is,  the  fad  was  known  to  the  whole  body.  It  was  a 
prevailing  idea  among  them,  that  John  was  a  favour- 
ite with  thdr  mafter  ;  and  that  he  might  prefume 
upon  freedoms,  which  it  would  be  improper  for 
them  to  take.  This,  however,  did  not  excite  their 
envy.  Either  they  were  themfelves  convinced  of 
the  fuperior  merit  of  this  difciple,  or  they  had  fo 
deeply  imbibed  the  fpirit  pf  their  mailer,  as  to  be 
incapable  of  this  bafe  pallion. 

But  if  our  Lord  did  not  openly  profefs  his  fupe- 
rior affedion  for  this  one  diftinguilhed  follower,  yet 
it  was  undoubtedly  evident  from  the  general  tenour 
of  his  condud  towards  him.  The  facred  writers 
particularly  mention,  that  he  lay  on  Jefus'  bread. 
This  was  a  fmgular  honour  ;  and  it  plainly  difcov- 
ered  how  dear  he  was  to  that  illuftrious  perfonage, 
who  treated  him  with  fuch  a  tender  familiarity. 
Nothing  could  better  indicate  the  undifguifed  friend- 
fliip  fubfifting  between  them. 

Besides  this  expreflion  of  his  fincere  regards,  it 
is  probable  our  Lord  intrufted  hira  with  many  fe- 
rrets. 


328  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVIII. 

crets,  which  he  did  not  reveal  to  his  other  difciples. 
This  may  be  fufpefted  from  a  particular  requeft  they 
once  made,  when  their  fears  and  curiofity  had  been 
greatly  excited.  Jefus  was  faying,  that  one  of  his 
difciples  fbould  betray  him^  A  predidion,  fo  unex- 
pected, filled  them  with  furprife  and  confternation. 
They  looked  on  one  another  with  evident  marks  of 
confufion,  doubting  of  v/hom  he  fpake.  "  Now, 
(fays  the  evangelift)  there  was  leaning  on  Jefus'  bo- 
fom,  one  of  his  difciples,  whom  Jefus  loved.  Simon 
Peter,  therefore,  beckoned  to  him,  that  he  fliould  afk 
who  it  fhould  be,  of  whom  he  fpake.  He  then,  ly- 
ing on  Jefus'  breaft,  faith  unto  him,  Lord,  who  is  it  ? 
Jefus  anfwered,  he  it  is,  to  whom  I  fliall  give  a  fop 
when  I  have  dipped  it."  This  circumftance,  though 
unimportant,  in  itfelf  confidered,  yet  is  a  very  natu- 
ral and  tender  expreffion  of  our  Lord's  regard  for 
his  favourite  difciple.  It  ftiewed  how  ready  he  was 
to  gratify  him  ;  and  that  no  reafonable  requeft 
fhould  be  refufed,  when  made  by  a  perfon,  for 
whom  he  entertained  fuch  high  regard. 

But  our  Lord  gave  a  ftill  greater  teftimony  of  his 
affection  for  John,  when  he  intrufted  him  with  the 
future  events  relative  to  the  church,  and  made  him 
the  honoured  inftrument  of  conveying  them  to  the 
chriftian  world.  Long  after  the  other  difciples  had 
fealed  the  truth  of  Chriftianity  with  their  blood, 
John  furvived,  to  bear  witnefs  of  the  wonderful 
fcenes  which  were  foon  to  be  exhibited.  Beins:  fent 
to  the  ifle  of  Patmos,  by  order  of  Domitian,  the 
great  head  of  the  church  appeared  to  him.  And 
there  he  unfolded  to  him  the  things,  which  then 
were,  and  which  fhould  be  hereafter  ;  gave  him  a 
comprehenlive  view  of  the  prefent  and  future  ftate 
of  religion  ;   and  ordered  him  to  commit  the  whole 

to 


SeRM.  XXVIII.3  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  ^^g 

to  writing,  for  the  benefit  of  thofe  who  fhould  be- 
lieve. This  was  an  unqueftionable  proof  of  his  af- 
fedion.  It  was  an  expreffion  of  it,  the  moft  grateful 
to  a  good  mind.  To  be  the  inftrument  of  convey- 
ing inilrudion  or  comfort  to  his  feilow-chriftians, 
muft  have  afforded  the  higheft  pleafure  to  this  benev- 
olent pcrfon. 

In  the  laft  fcene  of  our  Saviour's  life,  we  have  a 
ftriking  evidence  of  his  aifedion  for  his  friend  ;  of 
the  confidence  he  repofed  in  him,  and  the  return  he 
expected.  Beholding,  from  the  crofs,  his  weeping 
mother,  he  was  moved  with  compafllon»  And  for 
confolation  and  fupport,  he  juftly  fuppofed,  he  could 
not  refer  her  to  a  better  perfon  than  his  beloved 
friend.  Accordingly,  he  addrefTed  her  in  that  tender 
language,  "  woman,  behold  thy  fon  l"  Then  turn- 
ing to  John,  he  faid,  "  behold  thy  mother  :  and 
from  that  hour,  the  difciple  took  her  to  his  own 
houfe."  The  affection,  he  once  entertained  for  his 
divine  mailer,  he  willingly  transferred  to  his  honour- 
ed parent  ;  and  he  thought  it  but  a  fmall  return  for 
the  numerous  favours  he  had  received,  and  the  con- 
fidence repofed  in  him  by  one,  to  whom  he  was  un- 
der eternal  oblieations.     This  was  a  tender  fcene  ! 

o 

The  charac|:er  of  our  Saviour,  and  his  difciple,  it  ex- 
hibited to  great  advantage.  It  was  a  proof  of  the 
tender  fentiments  which  the  one  entertained  :  and 
it  moft  nobly  difplayed  the  gratitude  of  the  other. 

The  friendfliip  fubfifting  between  our  Lord  and 
his  apoftle,  is  full  with  inftrud:ion.  The  conciufions 
we  are  to  draw  from  the  fact  itfelf,  and  the  moral 
leffons  it  inculcates  upon  us,  were  the  laft  thing  pro- 
pofed  to  our  confideiation.  And  from  this  circum- 
ftance  in  the  life  of  our  Saviour,  we  cannot  but  ob- 
serve how  unjuftly  Chriftianity  has  been  attacked  by 
S  s  forae 


330  ©N   FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVIIL 

fome  modern  Infidels.     It  has  been  alleged,  by  way 
of  objection  to  the  gofpel,  that  it  difcouraged  private 
friendlhip.     This  has  been  reprefented  as  a  great  de- 
fed:  in  the  fyftem  itfelf,  if  not  a  conclufive  argument 
againfl  its  divine  original.     But  they  who  reafon  af- 
ter this  manner,  have  furely  never  examined  the  re- 
ligion they  afFed:  to  defpife.     The  fpirit  of  the  gofpel 
is  a  fpirit  of  love.     The  precepts  of  it  lay  a  founda- 
tion for  the  moft  generous  and  lafting  friendftiip. — 
And  certainly  the  example  of  our  Lord  proves,  be- 
yond all  contradidion,  that  it  is  not  only  innocent, 
but  laudable,  to  feled  out  of  the  mafs  of  mankind 
one,  to  whom  we  may  difclofe  the  moft  fecret  re- 
celTes  of  the  foul ;  upon  whom  we  may  confide  in  all 
time  of  adveriity,  and  to  whom  we  may  repair  for 
that  counfel,  affiftance,  and  confolation,  we  may  ever 
need.     The  condud  of  our  blefled  Saviour  is  equiva- 
lent to  a  precept.     And  his  example,  particularly  as  it 
refpecled  John,  we  may  fafely  and  honourably  follow. 
While,  then,  we  cultivate  a  perpetual  flow  of  good 
will  towards  the  whole  human  kind,  we  are  at  liber- 
ty to  have  our  private  friends,  and  to  enjoy  all  that 
rational  pleafure,  which  flows  from  fuch  a  connexion. 
As  Jefus  was  flrongly  attached  to  the  moft  deferving 
of  his  followers,  fo  may  we  place  our  warm  afFedion 
upon  fuch  as  apparently  refemble  this  beloved  difci- 
ple.     There  may  be  fome  among  the  human  kind, 
upon  whom  we  place  unbounded  confidence.     In 
their  fociety  we  fhaU  enjoy  the  higheft  pleafure.    By 
their  friendly  commiferation,  they  will  alleviate  our 
forrows.     By  their  generous  congratulations,  they 
will  double  our  joys.     They  will  admonifli  us  when 
we  go  aftray  ;   and  encourage  us  when  reftored  to 
the  path  of  duty.     From  their  counfel,  inftrudion, 
and  reproof,  we  fliaU  derive  inconceivable  pleafure 

and 


SeRM.  XXVIIL]  ON    FRIENDSHIP.  33 1 

and  advantage.  Who,  then,  would  not  wifli  for  i 
friend  j  one  who  has  juft  pretenlions  to  the  name  ? 
Who  that  has  any  regard  to  his  intereft  and  happi- 
nefs,  would  refufe  the  moft  intimate  connexion  with 
the  man,  who  is  formed  for  fociqty,  who  has  a  high 
reliih  for  the  focial  pleafures,  and  who  would  not 
violate  the  truft  repofed  in  him  ! 

Secondly — The  condud  of  our  Lord  teaches  us 
to  be  very  careful  in  the  choice  of  our  friends.  He, 
who  knew  every  heart,  did  not  truft  himfelf  indif- 
criminately  to  all.  In  Judas,  he  early  perceived  the 
feeds  of  treachery  and  deceit.  He  knew  that  avari« 
cious  traitor  waited  only  for  an  opportunity  to  de- 
liver him  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  For  which 
reafon  he  did  not  commit  himfelf  to  him,  with  the 
fame  confidence,  as  to  his  other  difciples.  Peter,  he 
was  fenfible,  had  zeal  and  afFedion  :  but  then  our 
Lord  could  not  be  ignorant,  that,  in  many  refpedis, 
he  was  an  inconfiftent  charader.  He  was  made  up 
of  courage  and  cowardice,  ftrength  and  weaknefs, 
zeal  and  irrefolution  ;  and  therefore  the  blefled  Jefus 
did  not  choofe  to  make  him  a  particular  confident 
and  friend.  With  the  private  charader  of  his  other 
difciples,  we  are  not  fufEciently  acquainted  to  ailign 
a  reafan,  why  the  choice  did  not  fall  upon  them. 
No  doubt,  he  perceived  fome  defed  in  them,  which 
was  abundantly  fupplied  in  the  perfon  of  his  choice. 
Accordingly,  John  was  moft  tenderly  beloved  ;  John 
lay  upon  his  breaft  ;  John  was  entrufted  with  his  fe- 
crets,  and  John  was  honoured  with  certain  marks  of 
affedion,  which  were  not  indifcriminately  beftowed 
upon  all. 

This  teaches  us  to  be  very  cautious  in  the  choice 
of  thofe,  with  whom  we  propofe  to  live  on  terms  of 
the  greateft  intimacy  and  afFedion.    A  bad  man  can-, 

not; 


332  ON   FRIENDSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXVII1» 

not  be  a  good  friend.  An  illiberal,  malignant  heart 
is  incapable  of  diiinterefted  love.  The  feeds  of  friend- 
ihip  will  perifli  in  fuch  a  foil.  We  muft  choofe  our 
friends  from  among  the  virtuous  and  good,  or  we 
fhall  be  deceived  by  an  empty  name.  Benevolence 
fliould  be  the  great  qualification.  And  of  this  we 
may  be  afTured,  the  nearer  any  charader  approaches 
to  that  of  the  difciple  John,  the  more  worthy  it  will 
be  of  our  efteem  and  confidence.  A  generous,  libe» 
ral,  benevolent  foul  cannot  defcend  to  an  unworthy 
action  j  cannot  deceive,  betray  j  o^nnot  difappoint 
pur  fondeft  expectations. 

Thirdly— From  the  example  of  our  Lord,  we 
learn  how  a  rational,  difinterefted  afFeclion  ought  tq 
operate.  Becaufe  the  bleffed  Jefus  entertained  a  pav- 
ticular  regard  for  a  worthy  and  deferving  follower, 
this  did  not  render  him  blind  to  his  faults,  did  not 
make  him  indifferent  about  his  other  difciples,  nor 
divert  his  attention  from  the  glorious  errand  on 
which  he  came.  John  fhared  in  his  reproofs,  in  com- 
mon with  others.  When  once  an  excefs  of  friend- 
ship betrayed  him  into  a  raih  propofal,  he  was  plain- 
ly told,  he  knew  not  what  manner  of  fpirit  he  was 
of.  Chrift  was  not  fo  prejudiced,  as  to  overlook  his 
xaihnefs  ;  nor  fo  partial,  as  to  let  it  pafs  without  a 
ievere  reproof.  This  fliews  he  was  no  flatterer  ; 
that  he  loved  not  in  profefiion  only,  but  in  deed  and 
in  truth. 

As  to  his  great  regard  for  his  other  followers,  and 
generous  good  will  to  all  mankind,  we  have  undoubt- 
ed evidence  of  them.  With  what  pleafure  did  he  go 
about  continually  doing  good  ?  How  kind  was  he, 
even  to  the  e^dl  and  unthankful  ?  With  what  an- 
guifli  of  foul  did  he  behold  their  objiiuate  infidelity  ? 
How  ardently  did  he  pray,  that  they  might  come  to 
'  "  the 


SeRM.  XXVni.3  OK    FRIENDSHIP.  ^33 

the  knowledge  of  tUe  truth,  and  be  faved  ?  And  how 
patiently  did  he  at  laft  fuffer,  the  juft  for  the  unjuft, 
that  he  might  bring  them  to  God  ?  All  this  indicates 
a  flow  of  good  will,  uninterrupted  and  univerfal ! 

Like  the  fon  of  God,  we  Ihould  therefore,  whilcj 
true  to  a  friend,  be  juft  and  benevolent  towards  all. 
We  fhould  not  fuffer  one  objed  to  engrofs  our  whole 
affedion.  Much  lefs  lliould  we  flatter  and  deceive 
the  perfon,  whom  we  profefs  to  honour  with  our 
friendfliip.  Partiality  is  the  mark  of  a  v/cak  mind. 
To  overlook  thofc  faults  in  one,  which  we  feverely 
condemn  in  others,  is  the  height  of  injuftice.  Let 
Jove,  therefore,  be  without  diffimulation.  And  let 
friendship  difplay  itfelf  by  every  kind  office,  and> 
particularly,  by  reproving,  correding,  and  inftrud:^ 
ing  in  righteoufnefs. 

Finally — The  choice,  which  our  Saviour  made, 
as  to  an  objeft  of  affecElion,  teaches  us  what  temper 
we  muft  cultivate,  and  how  we  muft  behave,  in  or- 
der to  fecure  his  regard.  He  was  particularly  de- 
lighted with  John,  becaufe  John  was  polTeffed  of  a 
more  amiable  difpolition  than  the  generality  of  his 
followers.  They  had  many  excellent  qualities  ;  but 
they  had  not  the  benevolence  of  this  divine  perfon. 
His  heart  was  made  of  tendernefs.  He  loved  his 
mafter  :  he  loved  his  fellow-difciples  :  he  loved  all, 
men.  His  breaft  was  unruffled  by  thofe  diforderly 
paffions,  which  torment  other  fouls,  and  do  fuch  in- 
credible mifchief  to  fociety.  He  felt  no  envy.  He 
ftudied  no  revenge.  Except  in  that  unguarded  mo- 
ment, when  he  would  have  called  for  a  judgment 
upon  the  ingrateful  Samaritans,  we  fee  nothing  iq 
^im  but  piety,  benevolence,  and  love. 

These  being  the  attractives,  which  firft  caught  the 
attention,  a|id  afterwards  fecured  the  friendfliip  of 

our 


334  QN  FRIENDSHIP.         [Serm.  XXVIIL 

our  Lord,  wc  cannot  be  at  a  lofs  to  determine  how 
the  fame  honour  may  be  fecured  to  ourfelves.  By 
cultivating  the  temper  of  John,  and  exercifing  his 
benevolence,  we  Ihall  approve  ourfelves  to  him,  who 
is  love,  w^ho  dwells  in  love,  and  who  has  given  in- 
fallible proofs  of  his  ardent  affeftion  for  mankind. 
As  we  delight  in  doing  good,  fo  will  he  delight  in 
us.  As  we  abound  in  charity,  fo  will  he  abound  in 
affection.  And  could  we  poflibly  furpafs  the  beloved 
difciple  in  goodnefs  of  heart,  we  fliould  be  honoured 
with  a  higher  degree  of  confidence  and  love,  than 
was  ever  beftowed  on  that  favoured  object. 
♦  Let  it  then  be  our  great  concern  to  abound  in 
charity,  to  cherifh  a  perpetual  flow  of  good  will,  and 
to  be  confpicuous  for  thofe  amiable  qualities,  which 
recommended  the  excellent  difciple,  John,  to  the 
friendfliip  of  his  Lord.  Love,  my  hearers,  is  the 
fulfilling  of  the  law.  A  benevolent  difpofition  will 
exalt  us  above  the  world,  will  render  us  like  the  an- 
gels of  heaven,  will  make  us  partakers  of  the  divine 
nature.  By  a  fpirit  of  love  we  fliall  promote  our 
own  happinefs,  and  highly  recommend  the  religion 
we  profefs.  If  we  live  in  love  and  peace,  the  God 
of  love  and  peace  will  blefs  us.  Jefus  will  behold  us 
with  an  eye  of  pure  affedion.  He  will  fay  to  the 
attendants  around  him,  behold  my  true  and  faithful 
difciples,  who  have  imbibed  the  fpirit  of  my  religion, 
and  live  together  as  members  of  the  fame  body. 
For  thefe  blefled  objects,  crowns  of  unfading  glory 
are  already  prepared.  Yet  a  little  while,  and  I  fhall 
receive  them  to  myfelf,  that  where  I  am,  they  may 
be  alfo.  In  my  father's  houfe,  they  fliall  receive  new 
and  continual  tokens  of  my  favour.  For  mutually 
bleft  in  the  affeclion  of  each  other,  they  are  capable 
©f  fuperior  happinefs,  and  they  are  worthy. 


Serm.XXIX.]         love  of  god,  eifiT.  335 


)ermoit  xxix. 


On  the  Love  of  God,  and  the  Love  of  Man. 
1  Timothy,  i.  5. 

**  NOW  THE  END  OF  THE  COMMANDMENT  IS  CHAR- 
ITY, OUT  OF  A  PURE  HEART,  AND  OF  A  GOOD 
CONSCIENCE,    AND   OF    FAITH   UNFEIGNED." 

I  HAVE  often  had  occafion  to  mention  the  errors, 
which  corrupted  Chriftianity,  foon  after  its  pub- 
lication ;  and  the  enemies,  which  its  early  preachers 
were  called  to  encounter.  Among  the  latter,  none 
were  more  formidable  than  fome,  who  had  been 
educated  in  the  Jewifli  fchools.  And  among  the 
former,  none  could  have  a  worfe  efFe<^  than  certain 
dodrines,  which  originated  in  the  Eaft  ;  and  then 
made  a  part  of  the  Jewifli  philofophy.  Whilft  the 
apoftle  Paul  was  employed  in  propagating  the  pure 
religion  of  Chrift,  the  teachers  of  thefe  dodrines 
were  ufing  their  utmoft  endeavours  to  defeat  his  la- 
bours. Wherever  he  had  planted  a  church,  they  in- 
finuated  themfelves.  And  to  fpread  the  poifon  of 
herefy  with  fuccefs,  they  made  no  fcruple  to  deny 
his  divine  commiffion,  as  an  apoftle  ;  and  the  excel- 
lency of  his  character,  as  a  Chriftian. 

The  difciples  at  Ephefus  were  among  thofe,  on 
whom  the  arts  of  fedudion  were  employed.  The 
falfe  teachers  had  found  their  way  into  that  city. 
To  defeat  their  arts,  the  apoftle,  therefore,  requefts 
his  fon  Timothy  to  ftay  at  Ephefus  ;  and  he  enjoins 
it  upon  him,  to  warn  the  Ephelians  againft  giving 

Jieed 


^5^  ^^-^^  X'OVE  o*  [Serm.XXIX. 

heed  to  fables  arid  endlef's  genealogies.  He  obferves, 
that  the  tendency  of  fuch  viHonary  fpeculations  is 
angry  debate,  and  not  edification.  And  he  informs 
him,  that  fome  had  already  turned  afide  to  vain 
janglingi  As  thefe  pernicious  errors  were  the  occa- 
fion  of  that  admirable  remark,  which  we  find  in  the 
text,  it  may  not  be  amifs  to  give  fome  account  of 
them. 

Before  the  days  of  our  Saviour,  the  oriental  phi- 
lofophy  had  been  introduced  to  Judea  :  and  the 
more  learned  of  the  Jews  endeavoured  to  incorpor- 
ate its  principles  with  thofe  of  their  own  religion. 
One  of  thofe  principles  relates  to  the  production  of 
heaven  and  earth,  and  their  refpeclive  inhabitants. 
According  to  that  philofophy,  there  exifted  from 
everlafting  one  eternal  nature  ;  in  which  dwelled  the 
fulnefs  of  wifdom,  goodnefs,  and  all  other  perfec- 
tions. This  nature  was  reprefented  as  a  pure  and 
radiant  light,  difFufed  through  the  immenfity  of 
fpace.  But,  after  a  profound  folitude  and  blelTed 
tranquillity  from  ages  of  ages,  the  eternal  nature 
produced  from  itfelf,  two  minds  of  a  different  fex, 
which  refembled  the  fupreme  parent  in  the  moft  per- 
fect manner.  And  from  their  union  arofe  others, 
which  were  followed  by  fucceeding  generations,  till 
a  celeftial  family  was  formed.  In  procefs  of  time,  one 
of  this  family  defcended  from  the  manfions  of  light  ; 
created  man,  and  the  various  ranks  of  inferior  beings, 
and  prepared  the  earth  for  their  reception.  Thus, 
defcending  from  the  Deity  to  the  lowed  reptile,  we 
perceive  a  chain,  one  end  of  which  was  fupported  by 
the  throne  of  God,  and  the  other  refted  on  the 
earth.  And  as  this  chain  was  formed  of  innumer- 
able links  ;  in  other  words,  as  innumerable  generajr 
tions  intervened  betweeji  the  eternal  and  the  loweft 

created 


Serm.XXIX.3  god  and  mak.  337^ 

created  nature,  the  term,  endlcfs  genealogies,  is  very 
pertinently  ufed  by  the  apoftle. 

To  this  vain  philofophy,  St.  Paul  juftly  oppofes 
the  limplicity  and  defign  of  the  gofpel.  "  Now  the 
end  of  the  commandment  is  charity,  out  of  a  pure 
heart,  and  of  a  good  confcience,  and  of  faith  un- 
feigned." The  benevolent  nature,  and  moral  ten- 
dency of  the  gofpel,  could  not  be  better  exprefled. 
The  great  end  of  the  chriftian  doctrine  is  not  to  ren- 
der men  quarrelfome,  but  to  incline  them  to  peace 
and  love.  It  is  not  to  intoxicate  them  with  learned 
pride,  but  to  teach  them  humility.  It  is  not  to  fur- 
nilh  merely  a  fubjed  for  converfation,  but  fome- 
thing,  which  they  are  to  obferve  and  pradife.  The 
end  of  the  commandment  is  not,  in  fliort,  a  fyftem 
of  religious  opinions  treafured  up  in  the  mind,  but 
the  love  of  God,  and  the  love  of  man,  eftablifhed  in 
our  hearts,  fupported  and  animated  by  a  principle  of 
faith,  operating  agreeably  to  the  dictates  of  a  good 
confcience,  and  exerting  a  fteady  influence  over  our 
temper,  converfation,  and  aclions*  This  is  pure 
Chriftianity  ;  Chriftianity,  as  it  exifled  in  the  hearts^ 
and  governed  the  behaviour  of  its  early  preachers, 
and  worthy  profeffors  ;  Chriftianity,  as  it  appeared^ 
before  it  was  obfcured  by  metaphylick,  or  corrupted 
by  fcience,  falfely  fo  called  ;  and  Chriftianity,  in  the 
form  which  it  will  hereafter  affume,  fliould  the  light 
of  the  glorious  gofpel  of  Chrift  irradiate  the  world. 

But  thefe  general  remarks  will  not  do  juftice  to 
the  words,  which  introduce  the  difcourfe.  Prefum- 
ing  on  your  ferious  attention,  I  fball,  therefore,  un- 
dertake to  give  the  fubjed  a  particular  examination. 

The  apoftle  begins :  "  Now  the  end  of  the  com- 
mandment is  charity.''*  By  the  commandment,  he 
means  the  chriftian  religion  ;  and  the  end  of  it  is 
T  t  the- 


n-y-xSi-^ 


> 


'33$  '   tHE  LOVE  GP  [Serm.  XXI]L 

tlie  moral  effecl,  which  its  author  contemplated, 
when  he  communicated  this  religion  to  mankind. 
And,  according  to  St.  PauFs  ideas  of  Chriftianity, 
this  end  is  accomplifhed,  when  it  produces  in  the 
hearts  of  its  fincere  believers,  a  principle  of  unfeigned 
love  to  God,  and  love  to  man.  Charity,  in  a  more 
limited  fenfe,  would  not  exprefs  the  fentiment  of  the 
upoftle.  And  we  fhould  do  great  injuftice  to  his  ar- 
gument, if  we  were  not  to  affix  to  this  term,  that 
exalted  idea,  which  it  evidently  conveys  in  many 
parts  of  the  facred  fcripture. 

Ifj  for  inftance,  by  charity^  we  were  to  underftand 
alms-giving,  it  would  fiot  be  true,  that  it  is  the  end 
of  the  commandment.  Many  precepts,  it  is  acknow- 
ledged, recommend  this  duty  :  and  without  an  ha- 
bitual attention  to  it,  in  vain  does  any  man  pretend 
to  be  a  Chriftian.  To  fay  to  a  brother  or  fifter, 
when  naked  and  deftitute,  be  thou  warmed  or  filled  ; 
and,  at  the  fame  time,  to  withhold  thofe  things 
which  are  neceffary,  is  virtually  to  renounce  the  gof- 
pel.  But  ftill,  the  man  who  gives  to  the  poor,  does 
not  do  all  which  Chriftianity  requires.  Looking 
round  on  the  objects,  which  have  experienced  his 
beneficence,  he  cannot  fay,  "what  lack  I  yet  ?'*  For 
the  truth  is,  many  other  virtues,  befides  alms-giving, 
are  politively  enjoined  by  the  fon  of  God,  and  re- 
commended by  his  example. 

Further — Indulgence  towards  thofe,  who  differ 
from  us  in  their  religious  opinions  ;  or  a  charitable 
allowance  for  their  errors,  is  not  the  fole  end  of  the 
commandment.  To  diftinguifli  between  miflakes  of 
the  undevftanding  and  depravity  of  the  heart,  is,  in- 
deed, the  duty  of  all,  who  admit  the  divine  authority 
of  the  gjfpel.  And  the  perfon,  who  does  not  exer- 
ciiQ  this  temper  towards  others,  is  very  far  from  the 

kingdom 


SeRM.  XXIX.]  GOD    AND    MAN,  33  j 

kingdom  of  God  To  fet  up  our  own  opinions  as 
the  ftandard  of  evangelical  truth  ;  and  to  require  all 
others  to  fubfcribe  to  them,  is  taking  a  liberty  with 
our  fellow-chriftians,  which  no  argument  can  juftify. 
We  know,  that  there  are  good  men  of  all  perfuafions. 
We  know,  that  a  fpirit  of  true  piety,  a  benevolent 
temper,  and  a  good  life,  may  confift  with  errors,  in 
regard  to  points  of  mei^e  fpeculation.  And  every 
man  of  inquiry  is  convinced,  that  a  perfect  religious 
uniformity  of  ientiment  is  unattainable  in  the  pref^ 
ent  ftate.  Why,  then,  fhould  we  not  bear  with  each 
other  ?  Towards  thofe,  who  cannot  fubfcribe  to  all 
our  opinions,  why  Ihoujd  we  fuffer  our  afFedions  to 
cool  ?  And  why,  on  this  account,  fhould  any  root 
of  bitternefs  fpring  up,  and  trouble  us  ?  To  fuffer 
our  prejudices  to  gain  fuch  a  triumph  over  our  be- 
nevolence, is  to  proclaim  our  ignorance  of  the  genius 
of  the  gofpel,  and  our  difrefpedt  of  the  purefl  and 
befl  example,  that  ever  delighted  the  eyes  of  man* 
kind. 

But  though  we  ought  to  be  warmed  with  this 
fpecies  of  charity,  yet  it  is  not  the  whole  duty  of 
Chriflians.  Let  any  man  recur  to  the  facred  volume, 
and  he  w411  find  that  his  moral  obligations  do  not 
terminate  in  thinking  well  of  others.  He  will  find 
the  ojEces  of  piety  and  juflice  no  lefs  inculcated,  than 
thofe  of  humanity.  The  infpired  pages  will  prefent 
a  variety  of  rules  relating  to  the  temper  and  life.-— 
And  he  will  perceive  that  humility,  devotion,  the 
forgivenefs  of  injuries,  temperance,  chaflity,  and 
numberlefs  other  virtues,  are  indifpenfably  requifitc 
to  the  chriflian  character.  The  inquiry,  therefore, 
returns,  what  is  the  end  of  the  commandmentj  as 
Hated  by  the  apoflle  ? 

If  we  attend  to  the  import  of  the  word  charity,  we 

fhall 


54«  THE   LOVE  OF  [SeRM.  XXIX» 

fhall  be  ftirnifhed  with  a  ready  anfwer  to  this  quef^ 
tion.    The  charity,  which  is  fo  highly  recommended 
in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  and  which  is  the  fubjeft 
of  fo  many  exhortations,  is  love  in  general  ;  love  to 
God,  and  love  to  his  creatures.     And  wherever  this 
principle  is  formed,  there  the  end  of  the  gofpel  is  ef^ 
feded.     For  a  fupreme  love  of  God  and  man  muft 
produce  every  Chriftian  and  moral  virtue.     If  we 
love  the  author  of  our  being  with  all  our  heart,  and 
foul,  and  mind,  and  ftrength,  we  fliall  yield  a  willing 
obedience  to  all  his  commandments.     This  principle 
will  conftrain  us  to  meditate  on  his  perfections  ;    to 
rejoice  in  his  government ;  to  fubmit  to  the  difpen- 
fations  of  his  providence ;  to  be  penitent  for  our  fins ; 
to  be  thankful  for  his  mercies  ;  to  pray  to  him  for 
the  things  which  we  want ;  and  to  refer  ourfelves  to 
his  difpofal.     This  principle  will  difpofe  us  to  every 
office  of  piety.     We  fhall  find  no  difinclination  to 
any  duty  enjoined  by  our  moral  governor,  fo  long  as 
he  is  the  object  of  our  fupreme  affedion.     Love  will 
make  every  command,  on  his  part,  welcome  j    and 
on  ours,  every  act  of  fubmiffion  delightful.      The 
great  herald  of  peace  and  mercy  will  likewife  receive 
the  homage  of  our  hearts,  if  this  facred  principle  be 
in  us,   and  abound.     For  to  honour  the  fon  as  we 
honour  the  father,  mufl:  refult  from  fuch  a  love  of 
God,  as  anfwers  to  the  requifition  of  the  gofpel. 

Agreeably  to  this  defcription,  the  love  of  God  is 
ftyled  the  firft  and  great  commandment.  And  with 
great  reafon,  for  it  fecures  obedience  to  all  fubordi- 
nate  laws.  A  child,  who  loves  a  parent,  will  cheer- 
fully comply  with  every  intimation  of  his  will.  And 
a  Chriftian,  who  has  fo  far  overcome  the  world,  and 
the  things  of  the  world,  as  to  love  God  fupremely, 
will  feel  a  conftant  fi;imulus  to  obedience,     Submif- 

fiy§ 


Serm.XXIX.J  eoD  and  man.  34, 

five  to  the  firft  and  great  commandment,  he  will  need 
no  argument  to  perfuade  him  to  pray  to  his  maker, 
to  confide  in  him,  to  acquiefce  in  his  appointments, 
to  ftudy  his  will,  or  to  do  any  thing,  which  comes 
under  the  general  defcription  of  living  foberly  and 
pioufly  in  the  world.  Hence,  the  frequent  injunc- 
tions to  love  God  fervently  and  fteadily.  And 
hence,  the  obfervation,  that  love  is  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law. 

But,  next  to  a  fupreme  afFe<^ion  for  our  maker, 
we  are  reminded  of  that  which  is  due  to  our  fel- 
low-men. And  as  the  former  is  a  fecurity  for  obe- 
dience in  general,  fo  is  the  latter  for  a  faithful  diC. 
charge  of  every  focial  duty.  If  we  love  our  neigh- 
bour as  ourfelves,  we  cannot  do  him  a  deliberate 
wrong.  So  far  from  it,  we  fhall  delight  in  doing 
him  good,  and  in  promoting  his  peace  and  happinefs 
in  every  form,  and  as  often  as  an  opportunity  fliall 
prefent.  The  fpecies  of  charity,  which  I  am  now 
confidering,  will  not  fuffer  us  to  violate  the  laws  of 
juftice  and  truth.  We  fliall  defraud  and  opprefs  no 
man.  We  fliall  flander  and  mifreprefent  no  one. 
Envy  will  be  a  ftranger  to  our  bofoms,  and  detrac- 
tion to  our  tongues.  Conforming  to  the  great  law 
of  brotherly  love,  we  fliall,  in  all  cafes,  do  to  others, 
as  we  would  that  they  fliould  do  to  us.  And  mutual- 
ly difpofed  to  kind  offices,  we  fliall  have  a  foretafte 
of  the  happinefs,  which  awaits  us  in  a  better  world. 

If  we  examine  the  many  crimes,  which  difturb  fo- 
ciety,  we  fliall  be  able  to  trace  them  up  to  a  want  of 
that  charity,  which  is  here  recommended.  Why  do 
men  take  an  advantage  of  the  necefilties  and  igno- 
rance of  their  neighbours  ?  becaufe  they  do  not  love 
them  as  themfelves.  Why  do  they  ever  break  their 
promifes  ?  from  a  defed  in  this  principle.    Why  do 

they 


342  THE  LOVE  OF  [Serm.  XXIX. 

they  cenfure  and  condemn  ;  why  indulge  themfclves 
in  evil  fpeaking  ;  and  why  take  any  liberties  with 
the  reputation  of  others  ?  becaufe  they  have  not  that 
love  which  Chriftianity  requires.  And  to  what  caufe 
but  this,  can  we  afcribe  the  many  interruptions,  to 
which  human  happinefs  is  expofed,  not  only  in  the 
world  at  large,  but  in  the  fmaller  circle  of  our  fami- 
lies and  friends  ?  Let  the  divine  principle  of  love 
have  its  proper  influence,  and  this  earth  would  be- 
come a  paradife.  For  it  is  a  facred  truth,  that  "  love 
worketh  no  ill  to  our  neighbour."  So  far,  there- 
fore, as  focial  duty  is  conlidered,  love  muft  be  the 
end  of  the  commandment. 

These  remarks  will  fufficiently  explain  that  part 
of  the  text,  which  is  under  our  immediate  confidera. 
tion.  We  find  that  love,  taken  in  its  largeft  fenfe,  is 
the  great  end  contemplated  by  the  chriflian  revela- 
tion :  becaufe  this  principle,  when  it  has  its  full  ope^ 
ration,  will  neceifarily  produce  all  thofe  virtues, 
which  are  prefcribed  by  the  gofpeh  But  the  apoftle 
goes  on  to  obferve,  refpeding  charity,  that  it  pro- 
ceeds from  a  pure  heart,  a  good  confcience,  and  faith 
unfeigned.     Let  us  attend  to  this  defcription. 

It  is  not  every  thing,  that  men  denominate  chari- 
ty, which  deferves  that  exalted  name.  As  enthufi- 
aftick  fervours  are  fometimes  miftaken  for  chriflian 
devotion,  fo  are  our  animal  inftincls  and  conftitu- 
tional  feelings  for  chriftian  charity.  But  the  divine 
principle,  which  is  the  end  of  the  commandment,  has 
its  foundation,  not  in  the  animal,  but  the  moral  part 
of  our  nature.  Firft,  it  proceeds  from  a  pure  heart. 
The  love  of  God  and  man  does  not  co-exift  with  any 
vile  or  fenfual  affeclions.  The  heart,  in  which  it  is 
feated,  is  purified  from  pride,  envy,  malice,  felfifli- 
nefs,  impatience,  and  every  unchafte  or  vicious  incli- 
nation. 


SeRM.  XXIX.]  GOD    AND    MAN.  34.3 

nation.  To  pretend  to  love  God  fupremely,  and  our 
neighbour  as  ourfelves,  whilft  we  harbour  any  im- 
pure affection,  is  equally  hypocritical  and  abfurd* 

I  AM  fenlible,  that  the  forms  of  devotion  may  be 
obferved,  and  acts  of  kindnefs  performed,  where  the 
heart  is  in  a  very  corrupt  ftate.  Men  may  worfhip 
God  to  be  feen  of  others  :  and  they  may  do  good 
from  motives  of  private  intereft.  Inftances  of  this, 
every  age  and  community  may  furnifli.  But  the 
charity  of  the  gofpel  is  a  principle,  which  cannot 
confift  with  any  vicious  propenfity.  Wherever  the 
love  of  God  and  man  predominate,  there  the  heart 
muft  be  cleanfed  from  every  pollution  ;  the  paflions 
and  affed:ions  muft  be  regulated  5  and  every  thing 
within  muft  be  right  with  God. 

Secondly — A  good  confcience  muft  accompany 
the  cxercife  of  chriftian  charity.  Devotion  without 
common  morality,  and  beneficence  without  honefty, 
are  a  ftrange  contradidion.  And  yet,  how  often  do 
we  meet  with  perfons  apparently  ferious  and  chari- 
table, who  muft  feel  the  fcourges  of  an  unapproving 
confcience,  whenever  they  reflect  on  their  unrigh- 
teous behaviour  ?  In  how  many  inftances  have  prayers 
and  alms  been  employed  to  cover  a  multitude  of 
fins  ?  To  enjoy  a  good  confcience,  we  muft  be  able 
to  look  back  on  an  uniform  courfe  of  obedience. 
We  muft  feel  affured,  that  we  have  not  attempted  a 
compolition  with  our  maker  ;  that  we  have  not  had 
recourfe  to  piety,  in  order  to  fupply  any  moral  de- 
fect ;  and  that  our  liberality  to  fome,  has  not  been 
injuftice  to  others.  Unlefs  we  have  this  teftimony, 
we  have  yet  to  acquire  that  charity,  which  is  the 
great  end  of  religion. 

Finally — The  love  of  God  and  man  muft  not 
only  be  feated  in  a  pure  heart,  and  exercifcd  with  a 

good 


344  THE  LOVE  OF  [Serm.XXIX. 

good  confcience,  but  muft  be  preferved  and  excited 
by  faith  unfeigned.  The  Chriftian  religion  draws 
fuch  a  character  of  God,  that  it  is  almoft  impofllble 
not  to  love  him*  And  it  points  out  our  relation  to 
others  with  fo  much  clearnefs,  and  gives  us  fuch 
views  of  our  duty  and  its  confequences,  that  we  can- 
not want  a  motive  to  beneficence,  which  the  gofpel 
does  not  fupply.  For  thefe  reafons,  our  charity 
fhould  be  kept  alive  by  a  firm  perfuafion,  that  the 
laws  of  Chriftianity  are  divine,  and  its  promifes  cer- 
tain. And,  if  we  have  this  faith  in  the  religion  of 
Jefus,  it  will  naturally  work  by  love  ;  and  incline  us 
to  every  office  of  piety  and  goodnefs. 

Thus  have  I  fiiown  the  end  of  the  commandment^ 
namely^  love  to  the  fupreme  being,  and  love  to  his 
creatures,  proceeding  from  a  pure  heart,  operating 
agreeably  to  the  didates  of  a  good  confcience,  and 
kept  in  exercife  by  an  unfeigned  belief  of  Chriftian- 
ity. But  are  thefe  the  views  of  religion  generally 
entertained  by  its  profeffors  ?  Arguing  from  their 
temper  and  actions,  fliould  we  fuppofe,  that  love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law  ?  If  adions  may  be  allowed 
to  fpeak,  they  will  exprefs  a  very  different  fentiment* 
The  behaviour  of  fomc  Chriftians  will  lead  us  to 
conclude,  that  the  end  of  the  commandment  is  a 
certain  mode  of  thinking,  joined  to  a  rancorous  pre- 
judice againft  all,  who  diffent  from  them.  How 
many  perfons  are  there,  who  have  no  other  religion 
than  fuch  as  I  have  now  mentioned  ?  Points  of 
mere  fpeculation,  advanced  with  confidence,  and 
maintained  with  an  intemperate  zeal,  conftitute  the 
whole  of  their  Chriftianity.  To  think  right,  is  of 
great  importance  ;  but  it  is  not  every  thing,  in  the 
J'View  of  religion.  The  affections  and  the  will  are 
not  lefs  refpe<^ed  in  the  preceptive  part  of  Chriftian- 
ity, 


Serm.XXIX.]        god  and  mait.  345 

ity,  than  the  underftanding.  Such,  therefore,  as 
have  only  opinions  to  produce,  as  the  work  of  re- 
ligion, have  fatally  overlooked  the  end  of  the  com- 
mandment. 

Others  there  are,  whofe  adions  would  lead  us  to 
believe,  that  the  great  purpofe,  for  which  Chriftian- 
ity  was  introduced,  was  to  make  men  attentive  to 
rites  and  forms,  and  zealous  for  all  ceremonies,  not 
excepting  thofe  of  the  moft  extravagant  nature. 
Their  faith  has  no  other  eflfed,  than  to  produce  a 
ceremonial  righteoufnefs  :  and  their  profeffion  is 
verified  by  the  ftrefs,  which  they  l^y  on  the  mere  ap- 
pendages of  religion.  But  "  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteoufnefs,  peace,  and 
joy."  The  end,  for  which  Chrift  came  into  the 
world,  was  not  to  exalt  thefe  trifles  to  objeds  of  im- 
portance, but  to  make  men  pious  and  benevolentw 
Even  inftitutions  of*  divine  appointment  are  but  the 
means  of  religion.  So  far  only  as  they  conduce  to 
promote  a  fpirit  of  piety,  and  to  confirm  the  princi- 
ples of  benevolence,  are  they  of  importance  in  the 
view  of  Chriftianity. 

Let  thefe  confiderations  correct  our  miftakes,  as  to 
the  nature  and  end  of  religion  ;  and  lead  us  to  efti- 
mate  our  chriftian  character  by  fome  other  rule,  than 
a  zeal  for  mere  opinions,  or  an  attention  to  outward 
forms.  Without  charity,  we  can  have  no  juft  claim 
to  the  title  of  Chriftians,  or  the  rewards  promifed  in 
the  gofpel.  Our  faith,  and  our  profeflions,  will  be 
of  no  avail,  unlefs  the  love  of  God  and  man  reign  in 
our  hearts.  To  what  purpofe  do  we  affent  to  the 
chriftian  revelation,  unlefs  we  conform  to  its  great*' 
defign  ?  Better  were  it  not  to  have  known  the  di- 
vine commandment,  than  to  overlook  its  great  end, 
which  is  comprehended  in  the  word  charity,  Char- 
U  u  ity^ 


34^  i^ov£  OF  GOD,  Sifc-.        [Serm.XXIX. 

ity,  in  the  Gliriftian  fenfe,  is  all  in  all.  This  divine 
principle  will  incline  you  to  every  good  work.  It 
will  difpofe  you  to  reverence  the  fupreme  being ; 
and  to  yield  that  homage,  which  he  has  required, 
with  cheerfulnefs  and  pleafure.  It  will  lead  you  to 
be  patient  and  refigned,  whatever  may  be  your  con- 
dition in  this  world.  And  will  conftrain  you  to  do 
good  to  all,  who  ftand  in  need  of  your  friendly 
offices.  Under  its  influence,  you  will  abftain  from 
every  thing  injurious  to  your  neighbour,  and  ofFen- 
five  to  God,  The  various  arts  of  difhonefty,  falfe- 
hood,  and  opprefiion,  will  be  both  avoided  and  re- 
probated. And  your  character  will  difplay  the  unit- 
ed charms  of  devotion,  benevolence,  and  morality. 
Wherefore,  "  hear  the  conclufion  of  the  whole  mat- 
ter :  thou  flialt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  foul,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  with  all  thy  flrength.  Tl»is  is  the  firft  com- 
mandment. And  the  fecond  is  like  unto  it,  namely 
this,  thou  flialt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyfelf.  There 
is  none  other  commandment  greater  than  this." 


Sermon 


Serm.XXXJ        the  abuse,  s^c.  •^4;^ 


)ennon  xxx. 


On  the  Abufe  of  parental  Authority, 
Genesis  xxvii.   13. 

«   AND    HIS    MOTHER    SAID    UNTO    HIM,    UPON    ME    BE 


I 


THY    CURSE,    MY    SON  :    ONLY    OBEY    MY    VOICE. 

S  it  poflible  to  read  thefe  words,  and  not  to  re- 
flect, with  indignation,  on  the  partial  and  wicked 
fpirif,  by  which  they  were  fuggefted  ?  To  one,  who 
ftands  in  the  relation,  and  exercifes  the  authority  of 
a  parent,  the  want  of  judgment  is  a  real  misfortune. 
But  the  want  of  principle  is  infinitely  worfe,  as  it 
proves  the  heart  to  be  in  fault  rather  than  the  head  j 
and  as  it  converts  a  guardian  into  a  tempter.  The 
parental  character,  thus  changed  and  proftituted,  is 
the  moft  difgufting  objed  that  can  be  prefented  to 
human  contemplation. 

The  words,  which  I  have  juft  read,  will,  when 
maturely  confidered,  verify  thefe  remarks.  They 
were  uttered  by  a  very  partial  mother,  and  with  the 
moft  difhonourable  and  unrighteous  views.  Ifaac,. 
having  grown  old,  and  being  apprehenlive  that  he 
fhould  foon  die,  called  to  him  his  eldeft  fon ;.  direded 
him  to  prepare  for  him  a  favoury  repaft ;  and  prom- 
ifed  him  that  his  obedience  fliould  be  followed  with 
that  hleffing,  which  the  patriarchs  were  permitted  to 
invocate  on  their  offspring.  The  fon,  without  de- 
lay, repaired  to  the  foreft,  that  he  might  accomplifli 
the  wiflies,  and  receive  the  blefling  of  his  parent. — 
During  his  abfence,  Rebekah  conceived  the  wicked 

defign 


'348  ^HE  ABUSE  OF  [SerM.  XXX. 

defign  of  impofing  on  the  father,  and  defrauding  the 
fon  of  that,  to  which  he  had  an  undoubted  claim,  as 
the  firft  born.  The  defign  was  communicated  to  Ja» 
cob.  He  objedled,  declaring  that  it  would  be  impof- 
fible  to  condud  the  impofition  with  fuccefs  ;  alleg- 
ing, that  he  Ihould  be  difcovered,  and  that  the  indig- 
nation of  Ifaac  would  bring  down  upon  him,  not  a 
blefling,  but  a  curfe.  The  text  follows  :  "  And  his 
mother  faid  unto  him,  upoH  me  be  thy  curfe,  my 
fon :  only  obey  my  voice."  The  fon  complied.-— 
The  impofition  was  pra(5tifed ;  was  detefted ;  and  if 
all  the  evils,  apprehended  by  Jacob,  did  not  overtake 
him,  yet  his  life  was  imbittered  by  the  unworthy 
part  which  he  had  acted.  Driven  from  a  parent's 
houfe,  defrauded  by  a  kinfman,  deceived  in  an  arti^ 
die  which  nearly  concerned  his  happinefs,  terrified 
by  apprehenfions  of  an  injured  and  avenging  brother, 
?ifili6ted  by  domeftic  contentions,  and  deeply  wound- 
ed and  difgraced  by  his  children,  he  might  well  de- 
(bribe  his  fate  in  thefe  pathetick  terms,  "  few  and 
evil  have  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  pilgrimage 
been"  !  The  benedidions  of  a  dying  parent,  obtained 
in  fo  unjuflifiable  a  manner,  were  of  no  eflential  ben^ 
efit  to  Jacob.  His  pofterity  enjoyed  the  blefling  ; 
but  he  was  not  a  happier  man  than  the  brother, 
whom  he  had  fupplanted. 

I  NOW  return  to  that  particular  part  of  his  interefl:- 
ing  ftory,  which  is  related  in  the  text.  "  Upon  me 
be  thy  curfe,  my  fon  :  only  obey  my  voice."  Thefe 
words  lead  me  to  remark,  in  the  firft  place,  that  pa^ 
rental  authority  is  founded  in  nature  j  and  that  it 
may  be  exercifed  to  infinite  advange.  Wifdom  dic- 
tated, that  the  human  kind  Ihould  appear  in  fuccef* 
fion  ;  that  one  generation  fliould  pafs  away,  and  an- 
other generation  come  into  exiftence.  And  benevo- 
lence 


SeRM.  XXXJ  PARENTAL    AUTHORITY.  ^49 

lence  fuggefted,  that  the  experience,  gained  by  fome, 
fhould  be  made  fubfervient  to  the  improvement  of 
others.  This  was  more  particularly  the  defign  of 
our  heavenly  father,  in  the  ftrong  afFedion  mutually 
fubfifting  in  parent  and  child  ;  in  the  power  confer^ 
red  on  the  former,  and  the  fubmillion  exaded  of  the 
latter.  In  thus  conftituting  human  nature,  infinite 
wifdom  and  goodnefs  intended,  that  they,  who  are 
inftrumental  to  the  exiftence  of  others,  fliould  alfo  be 
inftrumental  in  forming  their  morals,  in  cultivating 
their  minds,  in  fitting  them  to  a6l  an  honourable 
part  here,  and  in  qualifying  them  for  a  happy  lot 
hereafter.  That  this  end  may  not  be  defeated,  the 
parent  is  impelled  by  the  ftrongeft  of  all  afFedions  j 
and  the  child  is  direded  by  nature  to  revere  the  au. 
thority,  and  to  fubmit  to  the  will  of  thofe,  who  fuC 
tain  this  important  relation. 

Considering,  then,  the  peculiar  conftitution  of 
the  human  kind ;  confidering  how  fome  are  qualified 
to  dired,  and  others  inclined  to  be  direded,  what 
lafl:ing  advantages  may  be  fecured  by  the  judicious 
exercife  of  parental  power  ?  It  may  be  employed  to 
defend  and  provide  for  thofe,  whom  God  has  fub- 
jeded  to  it.  And  it  may  be  direded  to  fl:ill  higheir 
ends,  namely,  their  intelledual  and  religious  improve- 
ment. And  this,  it  is  beyond  difpute,  was  the  pri- 
mary objed  with  the  author  of  our  being,  when  he 
decreed  the  fucceflive  exiftence  of  the  human  fpecies  j 
when  he  inftituted  the  myfterious  relation  of  parent 
and  child ;  and  when  fubmillion  on  the  one  part  was 
made  to  harmonize  with  authority  on  the  other.  By 
means  of  this  wife  provifion,  the  young  mind  may 
be  early  enlightened.  The  heart  may  be  cultivated 
at  that  period,  when  moft  fufceptible  of  cultivation  j 
and  this  world  may  be  made  a  paiTage  to  a  better. 

Hencj^ 


35®  THE   ABUSE   OF  [SeRM.  XXX. 

Hence  the  counfels  of  revelation,  both  to  thofe 
who  exercife,  and  to  thofe  who  are  fubjed  to  pa- 
rental authority.  If  fubmiflion  be  enjoined  on  the 
latter,  fidelity  is  required  of  the  former.  If  it  be  an 
exprefs  command  of  the  Deity,  "  honour  thy  father 
and  thy  mother,"  it  is  a  command  not  lefs  explicit, 
that  they,  who  are  deftined  to  receive  this  honour, 
fliould,  in  a  religious  fenfe,  be  benefadors  to  their 
offspring.  In  other  words,  to  be  proper  objedls  of 
filial  piety,  they  fliould  be  preachers  of  virtue,  guard- 
ians of  innocence,  and  examples  of  every  good  work. 
Thus  refponfible  is  the  place  of  an  earthly  parent  ; 
and  thus  may  he  promote  the  good  of  thofe,  who 
want  experience  and  information  to  choofe  for  them- 
felves. 

Secondly — It  appears  from  the  text,  that  pa- 
rental authority  may  be  abufed  ;  and  that  a  child 
may  be  injured,  and  even  ruined  by  thofe,  who 
ought  to  have  been  as  well  the  guardians  of  his  vir- 
tue, as  the  protedors  of  his  perfon.  The  mother  of 
Jacob  was  his  tempter.  Unreafonably  partial  to  him, 
and  oveF-anxious  to  promote  his  intereft,  fhe  enticed 
him  to  deceive  his  father,  and  to  invade  the  rights 
of  his  brother.  So  far  from  recommending  truth, 
fincerity,  and  juftice,  ftie  gave  a  contrary  lelTon  j  and 
enforced  it  by  maternal  authority.  She  fuggefted 
the  very  arts,  by  which  a  perfon,  venerable  for  years 
and  piety,  might  be  deceived.  And  to  overcome 
the  reluctance  of  one,  whom  fhe  was  difpofed  to 
ferve  at  the  expenfe  of  honour  and  principle,  fhe  of- 
fered to  take  the  confequences  upon  herfelf.  A  mind, 
not  remarkably  fair  and  generous,  would  naturally 
yield  to  fuch  a  feducer.  Jacob  had  before  taken  the 
advantage  of  his  brother's  wants,  and  obtained  the 
birth-right  ;  would  he  not,  then,  take  the  advantage 
of  his  abfencc,  and  f«cure  the  bleiling  ? 

Parents, 


SeRM.  XXX.3  PARENTAL    AUTHORITV.  ^^i 

Parents,  who  want  virtue  themfehres,  are  not^ 
always  indifFerent  about  the  virtue  of  their  offspring. 
Very  far  from  it  :  they  frequently  difcover  an  earn- 
eil  defire  that  their  children  may  excel,  as  well  in 
morals,  as  in  other  accomplilhments.  The  molt 
fceptical  and  libertine  parent  would  not  choofe  that 
one,  immediately  defcended  from  him,  fliould  be  an 
atheift  ;  that  he  fhould  hold  religion  and  morality 
in  open  contempt ;  that  he  fliould  be  a  pattern  of  in- 
temperance, unchaftity,  and  diftionefty  ;  and  that  he 
ihould  fall  a  vi6lim  to  his  vices.  Such  a  want  of 
natural  affe<5lion  is  inconceivable.  Hence,  it  mav  be 
obferved,  that  few  inllances  occur,  in  which  parental 
authority  is  employed,  diredly  and  without  difguife, 
for  wicked  purpofes.  There  is  fomething  in  the 
breaft  of  every  one,  which  revolts  at  fuch  an  abufe.. 

But  if  one,  ftanding  in  the  relation  of  a  parent, 
were  fo  difpofed,  he  might  become  the  moft  fatal  of 
all  feducers.  The  authority  veiled  in  him  would 
fubdue  that  oppolition,  which  would  be  unconquer- 
able by  others.  And  the  partiality  felt  by  a  child  to- 
wards the  inftrument  of  his  being,  would  give  a 
favourable  complexion  even  to  the  blackeft  crimes. 
Propofals  and  perfuafions  to  anions  the  moft  unjufti- 
fiable,  would  not  be  reprobated,  as  though  they  had 
proceeded  from  a  different  fource.  And  even  a  very- 
bad  example  would  lofe  part  of  its  deformity,  when 
contemplated  through  the  medium  of  filial  affedion. 
Admitting  the  truth  of  thefe  obfervations,  it  necef- 
farily  follows,  that  a  parent  without  principle  is  the 
moft  formidable  enemy,  which  they  can  have,  who 
entertain  the  fentiments  of  children,  and  who  are 
inclined  to  yield  that  fubmiflion,  which  is  inculcated 
by  the  laws  of  God,  and  dictated  by  nature. 

I  PROCEED  to  a  third  obJfervation  j  namely,  that 

parental 


55^  '^HS    ABUSE   OF  [SeRM.XXX* 

parental  authority  is  no  farther  binding,  than  it  co- 
incides mth  the  authority  of  God.  Fathers  on  earth 
are  fubordinate  to  a  father  in  heaven.  They  cannot 
command  what  he  forbids  ;  prohibit  what  he  en- 
Joins  J  or  grant  what  he  denies.  All  laws  made  by 
them,  which  contravene  his  laws,  are  of  themfelves 
void.  His  will  muft  tranfcend  the  will  of  all  created 
beings.  Hence,  no  authority  whatever,  whether  it 
be  that  of  a  parent,  a  matter,  a  magiftrate,  or  a  fov- 
ereign,  can  demand  obedience,  unlefs  it  be  limited 
by  the  authority  of  God,  as  explained  in  his  word, 
or  exercifed  in  his  providence.  Hence  the  peculiar 
ftyle,  in  which  filial  obedience  is  recommended  in 
the  gofpel  :  "  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the 
Lord  ;"  that  is,  as  far  as  their  will  is  conformable 
to  that  of  their  Lord.  If  a  father  on  earth  were  to 
command  idolatry,  falfehood,  difhonefty,  revenge,  or 
any  known  immorality  ;  if  he  were  to  difpenfe  wath 
one  of  the  leaft  of  our  Saviour's  commandments  5 
if  he  were  to  enjoin  that,  concerning  which  fcruples 
would  arife  in  the  bofom  of  a  ferious  Chriftian,  dif- 
obedience,  in  fuch  inftance,  would  be  a  virtue.— 
When  we  cannot  obey  both,  whether  we  ought  to 
fubmit  to  God  or  man,  is  a  point  which  may  eafily 
be  determined. 

In  the  infancy  of  the  gofpel,  it  is  highly  probable, 
fiich  cafes  frequently  occurred.  Many  believing 
children  had  unbelieving  parents  ;  and  this  might 
create,  in  their  bofoms,  a  ftruggle  between  their  duty 
to  them,  and  their  duty  to  the  Saviour.  There  can 
be  no  doubt,  that  parental  authority  would,  in  thefe 
circumftances,  be  exerted  in  oppolition  to  the  caufe 
of  truth.  But,  it  was  to  be  of  no  avail,  when  it 
aimed  at  the  overthrow  of  Chriftianity,  or  contem- 
plated the  apoftafy  of  thofe,  who  profeffed  them- 
felves 


SeRM.  XXXJ  PARENTAL    AUTHORITY.  353 

felves  Chriftians.  A  child  was  to  continue  in  the 
faith,  and  to  perfevere  in  the  profeflion  and  praftice 
of  the  gofpel,  though  he  not  only  wanted  the  con- 
currence of  a  parent,  but  aded  in  direft  oppofition 
to  his  will.  In  a  concern  of  fuch  importance,  obe- 
dience to  God  was  to  tranfcend  all  other  confidera- 
tions. 

If  Jacob  had  entertained  this  profound  refped  to 
God,  and  his  duty,  he  would  have  been  armed 
againft  that  temptation,  which  proved  fo  injurious 
to  his  character,  and  fo  fatal  to  his  happinefs.  He 
would  have  alleged  the  immutable  obligations  of 
truth  and  juftice.  The  rights  of  a  brother,  he  would 
have  refolutely  maintained.  He  would  alfo  have  in- 
lifted  on  the  wickednefs  of  all  impolitions  ;  thofe, 
more  efpecially,  which  are  pradifed  on  a  parent. 
To  the  infinuations  of  a  mother,  he  would  have  op- 
pofed  the  authority  of  God.  How  can  I  do  this 
great  wickednefs,  and  incur  the  difpleafure  of  heaven, 
w^ould  have  been  his  language,  when  tempted  to  fe- 
cure  the  blelling  at  the  expenfe  of  filial  piety  and 
common  juftice.  Thefe  ol^e6lions  to  an  immoral 
adion,  would  have  done  honour  to  his  religious, 
without  refleding  difgrace  on  his  filial  character. 

Fourthly — I  am  led  to  remark,  that  the  dread- 
ful imprecation,  "  upon  me  be  thy  curfe,  my  fon,** 
will  be  executed  upon  all,  who,  by  their  evil  counfel, 
their  bad  example,  or  their  neglect,  have  contributed 
to  the  ruin  of  their  offspring.  Young  minds  may 
be  corrupted,  both  by  what  they  hear,  and  what 
they  fee.  Evil  a(^ions  may  be  recommended  in  di- 
red  terms.  But  there  is  fomething  fo  unnatural,  fo 
fhocking,  in  counfels  avowedly  in  favour  of  immoral 
pradices,  that  it  is  fcarcely  conceivable  how  the  lips 
of  a  parent  could  utter  them,  Perfons  muft  be  de- 
W  w  praved 


354  THE    ABUSE    OF  [SeRM.  XXX. 

praved  to  the  laft  degree,  before  they  can  bring  their 
minds  to  a<5l  fo  inhuman  a  part.  If,  however,  the 
age  in  which  we  live,  or  tlie  community  of  which 
we  are  members,  furnifh.  any  fuch  example,  the  im- 
precation before  us  will,  in  that  cafe,  be  verified.  A 
c.urfe  will  attend  the  unnatural  feducer.  Probably 
in  this  world,  but  certainly  in  the  world  to  come,  he 
will  eat  of  the  fruit  of  his  own  ways  ;  and  be  filled 
with  his  own  devices. 

A  CURSE  will  alio  be  upon  thofe,  who  corrupt  the 
morals  of  their  children  by  an  evil  example.  Would 
to  God,  that  fuch  an  example  were  as  uncommon,  as 
direct  leffons  in  favour  of  immorality.  Few  are  fo 
hardened,  as,  in  pofitive  terms,  to  preach  wicked- 
nefs  :  but  many  are  fo  uncircumfpecl,  have  fo  little 
reverence  for  God,  fo  little  refped:  for  religion,  as, 
by  their  actions,  to  put  a  fanclion  on  vice.  The 
parent,  however,  who,  before  the  eyes  of  his  houfe- 
hold,  exhibits  a  bad  example,  is  a  real  tempter  ;  and 
may  expert  the  punifhment  threatened  to  thofe,  who 
caufe  the  fimple  to  err  ;  and  who  promote  the  caufe 
of  wickednefs  in  the  world.  A  levity  of  fpeech, 
whenever  the  fubjecl  of  religion  is  introduced  ;  pro- 
fanenefj  and  indecency  in  common  converijjtion  ; 
falfehood  and  llander  ;  open  injufi:ice  ;  grofs  intem- 
perance, and  libertine  practices,  may  be  regarded  as 
the  moft  effedual  lelTons  of  vice  ;  and  will  admit  of 
this  comment,  "  go,  and  do  likewife."  This,  I  am 
fenfible,  may  not  be  intended  :  but  this  may  be  ra- 
tionally expected,  when  vice  has  the  fand:ion,  if  not 
of  a  parent's  voice,  yet  of  his  actions.  Rendered 
familiar,  it  will  firft  be  endured,  then  approved,  and 
finally  practifed. 

If,  therefore,  any  have  conducted  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner, as  to  feduce  thofe,  whom  they  ought  to  have 

formed 


Serm.XXX.]      i»arental  authority.  355 

formed  to  piety  and  virtue,  they  may  be  affured, 
that  the  moral  governor  of  the  world  will  inflicl  on 
them  a  punifhment  adequate  to  their  crimes.  If  im- 
mortal honour  awaits  thofe,  who  have  converted  a 
iinner  from  the  error  of  his  ways,  what  difgrace  will 
overwhelm  fuch  as,  if  not  by  their  evil  counfels,  yet 
by*  their  evil  example,  have  recommended  iniquity, 
and  c(;ri  upted  good  manners  ?  Muft  not  every  vic- 
tim to  immorality  be  a  witnefs  againft  them  ?  And 
mull  it  not  imbitter  their  future  ftate  to  reflect,  that 
the  neareil  of  all  earthly  objefts,  thofe  who  claimed 
their  firft  attention,  and  their  warmeft  affeclions, 
learned  from  them  to  infult  God,  to  defpife  religion, 
to  indulge  the  worfl  paflions,  and  to  contract  the 
worft  habits  ? 

Further — The  imprecation  in  the  text  will  be 
on  thofe,  who  ruin  their  children,  or  any,  whom 
heaven  has  committed  to  their  guardianfliip,  by  neg- 
led.  Many,  whofe  counfels  are  good,  and  whofe  ex- 
ample is  favourable  to  virtue,  are  deficient  in  that 
watchfulnefs,  which  becomes  the  character,  and  the 
ftation  of  a  parent.  They  prefcribe  good  rules,  but 
do  not  fee  them  carried  into  execution.  They  fet  an 
amiable  example,  but  do  not  examine  into  its  moral 
effeds.  In  plain  language,  they  do  not  inquire  what 
manner  of  perfons  they  are,  on  whom  their  inftruc- 
tions  have  been  beftowed  ;  do  not  concern  them- 
felves  to  know  what  virtues  they  have  acquired,  or 
what  habits  they  have  contracted ;  do  not  afcertain 
the  important  point,  whether  commendation  is  to  be 
given,  or  reftraints  impofed.  Negligent  in  an  article 
of  fuch  moment,  they  are  partners  in  the  guilt,  and 
will  be  partakers  of  the  difgrace  of  thofe,  who  be- 
come vicious  through  their  negled. 

In  confirmation  of  this,  we  may  appeal  to  the  de- 
claration 


35^  THE   ABUSE   OF  [SeRM.  XXX. 

claration  of  God  himfelf,  refpeding  an  ancient  prieft. 
It  was  his  misfortune  to  have  children,  who  difgraced 
themfelves,  their  parent,  and  religion,  by  the  moft 
immoral  praftices.  Their  crimes  were  of  fuch  a 
magnitude,  and  the  commiffion  of  them  fo  public, 
that  a  complaint  was  at  length  brought  to  Eli  againft 
his  fons.  Confidering  the  enormity  of  their  con- 
dud,  it  might  have  been  expeded,  that  they  would 
have  been  removed  from  an  office,  which  they  had 
difgraced ;  and  that  the  zeal  of  a  religious  minifter 
would  have  overcome  the  affection  of  the  parent. 
But  fo  far  from  it,  he  only  faid,  "  why  do  ye  fuch 
things  ?  for  I  hear  of  your  evil  dealings  by  all  this 
people.  Nay,  my  fons,  for  it  is  not  a  good  report 
that  I  hear  ;  ye  make  the  Lord's  people  to  tranf- 
grefs."  A  reproof,  fo  inadequate  to  the  occafion, 
excited  the  utmoft  difpleafure  of  God.  According- 
ly, Samuel  was  commiffioned  to  addrefs  the  too  in- 
dulgent parent  in  the  following  ftrain  :  "  I  will  per- 
form againft  Eli  all  things  which  I  have  fpoken  con- 
cerning his  houfe  :  when  I  begin,  I  will  alfo  make 
an  end.  For  I  have  told  him,  that  I  will  judge  his 
houfe  forever,  for  the  iniquity  which  he  knoweth  ; 
becaufe  his  fons  made  themfelves  vile,  and  he  re- 
ftrained  them  not."  The  dreadful  fentence,  con- 
tained in  thefe  words,  was  not  revoked.  The  fons 
were  punifbed  for  their  uncommon  wickednefs  ;  and 
the  father  lived  to  hear  of  the  judgments,  which 
were  executed  on  them.  Both  the  language,  and 
the  meafures  purfued,  in  this  inftance,  by  the  righ- 
teous governor  of  the  world,  Ihow,  that,  if  evil 
counfels  will  bring  down  a  curfe,  negled  will  not 
be  excufed. 

An  impartial  application  of  this  fubjed  concerns 
all,  who  ftand  in  the  relation  of  parents  ;  and  is  in- 

difpenfable 


SfiRM.XXX.]         PARENTAL    AUTHORITY.  357 

difpenfable  in  regard  to  thofe,  who  have  publicly  en- 
gaged to  be  moral  inftruders  and  examples  to  their 
offspring.  They  who  have  bound  themfelves,  by  a 
folemn  promife,  to  give  them  a  religious  education, 
and  to  go  before  them  in  the  path  of  chriftian  duty, 
may  expect  a  bleffing,  if  they  have  kept  their  prom- 
ife J  if  they  have  neglected  it,  a  curfe,  I  do  not 
fuppofe,  that  any  parent,  in  this  affembly,  is  capable 
of  being  a  tempter,  in  the  more  criminal  fenfe  of  the 
word.  -  I  would  perfuade  myfelf,  that,  in  circum- 
ftances  like  thofe  in  the  text,  the  counfel  there  given, 
and  the  curfe  there  imprecated,  would  be  rejected 
with  horror  by  every  one  prefent.  Still,  if  there  be 
no  inftances  of  parental  fedu<5tion,  are  there  no  in- 
ftances  of  parental  imprudence  or  negled  ?  Have  the 
plainer  duties  of  Chriftianity  been  feafonably  incul- 
cated ?  Has  a  good  example  been  conftantly  difplay- 
ed  ?  Has  the  utmoft  circumfpedion  been  obferved  ? 
Has  vice  been  difcouraged,  by  a  faithful  reprefenta- 
tion  of  its  prefent  and  future  confequences  ?  Has 
every  prudent  and  rational  meafure  been  employed, 
to  guard  the  young  mind  from  the  contagion  of 
moral  evil,  and  to  produce  the  earlieft  fruits  of  piety 
and  virtue. 

If  the  ftation  of  a  parent  be  honourable  ;  if  the 
character  be  facred  ;  the  duties  refulting  from  it  are 
of  infinite  importance.  Suffer  me,  then,  to  exhort 
thofe,  who  come  under  this  defcription,  to  give 
earneft  heed  to  the  fubjed  of  this  difcourfe.  I  need 
not  caution  you  againft  teaching  immorality  by  pre- 
cept :  I  will  fuppofe  fuch  a  thing  impolTible.  But 
beware,  left  your  converfation,  more  efpecially  where 
religion  is  the  fubjeft,  beware,  left  your  conduct,  in 
any  refpeft,  fhould  betray  others  into  licentious  prin- 
ciples and  adions.     "  Let  your  light  fo  fhine  before 

your 


35^  ORIGIN  OF  EVIL.        [Serm.  XXXL 

your  children,  that  they  may  fee  your  good  works, 
and  glorify  your  father  in  heaven.'*  The  prefent  is 
a  feafon,  which  calls  for  uncommon  vigilance,  and 
circumfpedion.  Be  watchful,  therefore,  and,  in 
thofe  who  look  up  to  you  for  diredion,  ftrengthen 
the  things  which  remain,  and  are  ready  to  die.  So 
will  you  not  merely  avert  the  evil  imprecated  in  the 
text  :  but  thofe,  who  have  been  favoured  with  your 
inftruclion,  and  formed  by  your  example,  will  rife 
up  and  call  you  bleffed. 


Sermon  xxxi. 

Origin  of  Evil. 

ECCLESIASTES    VII.    29. 

LO,  THIS  ONLY  HAVE  I  FOUND,  THAT  GOD  HATH 
MADE  MAN  UPRIGHT  ;  BUT  THEY  HAVE  SOUGHT 
OUT    MANY   INVENTIONS. 


s 


OLOMON  was  a  very  ferious  inquirer  after 
truth.  God  had  given  him  an  excellent  under- 
ftanding  ;  and  had  placed  him  in  a  fituation  highly 
favourable  for  its  improvement.  But,  notwithftand- 
ing  his  fuperior  abilities  and  advantages,  there  were 
many  things,  which  he  could  not  comprehend.  The 
myftery,  however,  which  moft  confounded  his  un- 
derftanding,  was  the  introdudion  of  fin  and  mifery 
into  this  world.  Under  the  government  of  a  moft 
wife,  powerful,  and  benevolent  being,  it  was  afton- 

ifliing 


Serm.XXXI.]         origin  of  evil.  359 

ifliing  to  him,  that  fo  many  diforders  fliould  prevail. 
And  confidering  man  as  the  workmanftiip  of  God, 
he  could  not  ealily  account  for  his  depravity. 

But  Solomon  is  not  the  only  perfon,  who  has 
found  himfelf  bewildered  with  this  fpeculation.  The 
wifer  heathens,  the  inquifitive  Jews,  and  Chriflians  of 
all  ages,  have  confidered  the  great  queftion,  "  -whence 
came  eviW  and  have  confefled  their  inabiUty  to  give 
a  fatisfa6tory  anfwer.  Of  one  thing,  however,  we 
may  be  certain,  that,  as  to  moral  evil,  God  cannot 
be  its  author.  If  men  are  finners,  they  were  not 
made  fuch  by  his  pofitive  agency.  God  did  not  in- 
fufe  into  them  an  evil  principle  ;  or  fet  before  them- 
motives  to  fin,  which  they  could  not  refift.  This  is 
a  certain  point  :  and  in  this,  the  wife  man  was  fully 
eftabhlhed.  "  Lo,  (fays  he)  this  only  have  I  found, 
that  God  hath  made  mati  upright ;  but  they  have  fought  out 
many  inventions"  As  if  he  had  faid,  I  have  long  at- 
tended to  human  nature,  and  critically  obferved  the 
adions  of  mankind.  And  the  refult  of  all  my  in- 
quiries is  this,  that  man  is  the  author  of  his  own 
mifery.  As  to  God,  he  hath  done  ail  things  well. 
He  is  righteous  in  all  his  ways  ;  and  holy  in  all  his 
works.  And  in  man,  the  nobleft  of  his  produ6lions, 
his  wifdom  and  goodnefs  are  eminently  difplayed. 
He  has  given  him  an  underftanding,  that  he  may  dif- 
cern  what  is  right ;  a  will  to  choofe  ;  and  a  con- 
fcience  to  direct.  As  the  immediate  workmanftiip 
of  God,  man  is  upright.  But,  you  will  remember, 
that  man  is  a  moral  agent,  and  therefore  may  abufe 
his  liberty.  And  this  is  the  real,  though  a  melan- 
choly truth.  Inllead  of  following  the  didates  of 
confcience,  he  lias  fought  out  many  inventions.  By 
various  arts,  he  has  endeavoured  to  explain  away  his 
duty,  or  reconcile  himfelf  to  an  unlawful  courfe  o£ 

living. 


360  ORIGIN    GF   EVIL.  [SeRM.  XXXL 

living.  He  has  raifed  fcruples  and  doubts  refpedling 
right  and  wrong.  He  has  wilfully  miftaken  his  own 
character  ;  turned  away  his  eyes  from  the  true  char- 
after  and  moral  government  of  God  ;  and  refufed 
to  obferve  the  nature,  or  to  trace  the  confequences 
of  his  adions.  Thus  unfriendly  to  himfelf,  God  has 
left  him  to  take  his  own  courfe.  For  it  would  be  a 
reflexion  on  his  infinite  wifdom,  firft  to  create  a 
moral  agent,  and  then  to  deprive  him  of  his  liberty. 

In  this  comment,  I  imagine,  we  have  the  true 
fenfe  of  the  wife  man.  But  his  words  deferve  a 
more  particular  examination.  They  contain  a  vindi- 
cation of  the  charader  of  God  ;  and  they  afcribe  the 
vices  and  follies  of  mankind  to  their  true  caufe.  As 
each  of  thefe  fubjeds  is  highly  interefting  to  us,  I 
promife  myfelf  your  ferious  attention,  whilft  I  at- 
tempt their  difcuflion. 

First — ^We  learn  from  the  text,  that  "  God  made 
man  upright"  Thefe  words  are  certainly  true,  if  we 
refer  them  to  the  firft  parent  of  the  human  race.  By 
Chriftians,  of  all  denominations,  it  is  acknowledged, 
that,  as  he  came  from  the  hands  of  his  maker,  Ad- 
am was  an  innocent  being.  The  mofaic  account  of 
the  creation  evidently  fuggefts  this  idea.  Having 
formed  the  various  inferior  animals,  which  inhabit 
the  earth,  the  ocean,  and  the  air,  God  faid,  let  us 
make  man  in  our  image,  and  our  likenefs.  And  we 
are  exprefsly  informed,  that  man  was  fo  created. 

In  this  fhort  account,  I  am  fenfible,  fome  include 
more  than  others.  From  the  words  of  Mofes,  fome 
infer,  that  Adam  refembled  his  maker  in  knowledge, 
righteoufnefs,  holinefs,  and  an  unlimited  dominion 
over  the  lower  creation.  Others  maintain,  that  he 
received  from  God  only  a  capacity  for  making  thefe 
attainments.  According  to  the  former,  he  was  ac- 
tually 


SeRM.  XXXL]  ORIGIN    OF    EVIL.  3^1 

tually  holy,  righteous,  and  wife  :  according  to  the 
latter,  he  was  capable  of  becoming  fo.  I  need  not 
mention  the  feveral  arguments,  by  which  thefe  dif- 
ferent opinions  are  fupported.  It  is  fufficient  to  fay, 
that  upon  either  principle,  the  firft  man  was  upright. 
There  was  nothing  faulty  in  his  nature.  There  was 
no  bias  towards  moral  evil.  Every  thing  was  right 
in  the  parent  of  the  human  race,  when,  having 
breathed  into  him  the  breath  of  life,  the  infpiration 
of  the  Almighty  gave  him  underftanding.  Accord- 
ingly, the  account  of  the  creation  clofes  with  thefe 
words,  "  and  God  faw  every  thing  that  he  had 
made,  and  behold,  it  was  very  good.** 

But,  as  God  made  our  firft  parent  upright,  fo  I 
may  venture  to  fay,  that  he  has  not,  by  his  politive 
agency,  infufed  an  evil  principle  into  his^  pofterity. 
As  the  production  of  infinite  wifdom  and  goodnefs, 
we  are  upright.  Otherwife,  we  could  not,  with  any 
colour  of  reafon,  be  blamed  for  our  tranfgreffions. 
Were  wickednefs  the  fault  of  our  nature,  and  not  of 
our  will,  we  fliould  have  a  fufficient  excufe  for  every 
enormity.  Before  .the  tribunal  of  God  and  man, 
we  might  plead  nature  and  neceflity.  And  this  plea 
would  be  an  ample  juftification. 

But  how  contrary  is  this  to  our  own  internal  per- 
ceptions ?  And  how  directly  oppofed  to  the  word  of 
God  ?  In  the  facred  fcriptures,  the  wicked  are  al- 
ways reprefented  as  their  own  deftroyers.  And 
their  fins  are  invariably  afcribed  to  themfelves,  and 
not  to  him  that  made  them.  But  what  could  be 
more  inconfiftent  than  this  reprefentation,  if  we  are 
fo  formed,  by  the  author  of  our  being,  that  we  can- 
not but  tranfgrefs  ?  If  we  received  our  nature  from 
God,  and  we  ad  conformably  to  that  nature,  when 
we  do  wrong,  we  are  reduced  to  one  or  the  other  of 
X  X  thefe 


0 


6l  ORIGIN    OF    EVIL.  [SzRM.  XXXf, 


thefe  conclufions  ;  either  that  there  is  no  moral  evil 
in  the  world  ;  or  that  God  is  its  proper  caufe.  But 
I  am  fure,  that  thofe,  whom  I  now  addrefs,  will 
neither  deny  a  plain  fact,  nor  criminate  their  maker. 

There  is  a  fenfe,  then,  in  which  the  words  before 
»s,  will  apply  to  the  human  kind.  But  before  you 
cither  admit  or  reject  this  application,  let  me  explain 
my  meaning.  When  I  affirm,  that  God  hath  made 
man  upright,  I  do  not  mean  that  his  uprightnefs  is 
like  that,  which  has  been  afcribed  to  Adam  in  his 
primitive  ftate.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  the  up- 
rightnefs of  angels  :  or  that  it  will  admit  of  any 
comparifon  with  the  rectitude  of  the  fon  of  God. 
The  uprightnefs,  of  which  I  am  fpeaking,  is  that 
which  is  compatible  with  a  frail,  mortal,  and  fallible 
nature.  In  the  fcale  of  being,  man  undoubtedly 
holds  a  very  inferior  place.  It  has  been  thought, 
that  >he  is  the  lowed  of  all  moral  agents.  Hence  his 
frequent  deviations  from  the  rule  of  right.  And 
hence  the  unhappy  influence  of  thofe  temptations, 
which  continually  befet  him.  So  powerful  is  the 
law  in  his  members,  and  fo  weak  that  of  his  mind, 
that  he  is  continually  acting  againft  his  better  judg- 
ment. Still,  however,  his  will  is  in  fault,  and  not 
his  nature.  God  does  not  expect  from  him  the  up- 
rightnefs of  angels.  But  he  requires  a  degree  of  ho- 
linefs,  anfwerable  to  the  powers  and  faculties,  which 
he  has  given  him. 

The  words  of  an  ingenious  commentator  on  this 
fubje6t,  will  fet  this  point  in  a  clear  and  convincing 
light.  *'  The  uprightnefs,  which  belongs  to  man, 
"  and  which  is  neceifary  to  difcharge  God  from  his 
"  fms,  confifts  in  this,  that,notwithftanding  the  weak- 
"  nefs  and  infirmity  of  our  nature,  and,  notwith- 
*'  ftanding  all  the  coiifequcnces  of  the  fall,  and  not- 

"  withftanding 


Serm.XXXL]        origin  of  evil.  ^61; 

^  withftanding  all  our  temptations,  and  pronenefs  to 
*^  fin,  yet  no  man  is  under  a  necefllty  of  being  wick- 
"  ed.  No  man  can  fay,  that  it  is  the  fault  of  God's 
"  creation  ;  no,  not  even  of  the  frail  nature,  which 
**  he  receives  from  Adam  ;  but  the  unreafonable 
**  choice  of  his  own  will,  which  makes  him  live  vi- 
**  cioufly.  That  w^e  are  liable  to  temptation,  is  the 
"  weak  condition  of  our  nature,  and  the  unhappi- 
"  nefs  of  our  prefent  ftate.  But  temptation  is  not 
*'  fin  :  and  being  tempted  is  not  inconfiflent  with 
"  uprightnefs  ;  that  is,  not  inconfiflent  with  fuch 
*'  uprightnefs  as  God  expects  from  us  in  this  frail 
*'  and  imperfect  flate.'*  It  is  added,  "  God  has  given 
*'  us  eyes  to  difcern  the  light,  underflanding  to  dif- 
"  tinguifli  between  good  and  evil,  and  a  will,  where- 
*'  by  we  are  enabled  to  choofe  the  one,  and  refufe 
*'  the  other.  And  in  the  truth,  or  reality  of  thefe 
*'  faculties,  not  in  the  perfection  of  them,  that  is,  not 
*'  in  their  being  fuch  as  cannot  be  impofed  upon,  or 
''  deceived,  but  in  their  being  fuch  as  do  not  necef- 
''  farily  deceive  us,  confifts  the  uprightnefs,  where- 
"  with  the  pofterity  of  Adam  now  come  into  the 
«  world.'* 

And  this  is  the  difcovery,  which  rewarded  the 
inquiries  of  the  wife  man,  and  reconciled  him  to  the 
courfe  of  things  in  this  world.  He  clearly  faw,  that 
every  thing  was  not  right.  Wherever  he  turned  his 
eyes,  he  beheld  vice  and  mifery.  And  the  difHculty 
was,  how  to  account  for  fuch  diforders.  At  length, 
he  came  to  this  conclufion,  that  the  fault  was  not  in 
God,  but  in  man.  The  former,  he  was  well  convin- 
ced, wifhed  the  perfedion  and  happinefs  of  his  crear 
tures.  But  the  latter,  being  a  free  agent,  could  hear 
or  forbear,  refufe  or  comply.  Unhappily,  his  will 
did  not  always  comport  with  that  of  his  maker  ; 

and 


3^4  ORi«iN  OF  EviL»        [Serm.  XXXL 

and  hence  the  train  of  evils,  which  imbittered  his 
prefent  condition.  To  the  wife  moralift,  this  was  a 
very  important  difcovery.  It  gave  relief  to  his  mind. 
And  it  confirmed  thofe  fentiments  of  refpecl,  which 
the  charadrer  and  government  of  God  ought  always 
to  excite. 

But  if  it  be  an  undeniable  truth,  that  "  God  hath 
made  man  upright,"  I  proceed  to  obferve,  fecondly, 
**  that  he  hath  fought  out  many  inventions."  In- 
ftead  of  preferving  his  original  rectitude,  which  he 
might  have  done,  by  a  proper  attention  to  himfelf ; 
he  has  loft  that,  which  is  the  glory  of  human  nature, 
and  the  only  true  fource  of  real  happinefs.  Nor  is 
man  the  only  inftance  of  fuch  foDy  and  perverfenefs. 
According  to  the  facred  fcriptures,  an  order  of  be- 
ings, far  fuperior  to  man,  difgraced  and  ruined  them- 
felves  by  their  djfobedience.  Among  the  creatures 
of  God,  there  is  an  exalted  clafs,  diftinguifhed  by  the 
name  of  angels.  Of  thefe,  fome  became  apoftates  ; 
and  they  are  now  fufFering  the  penal  confequences 
of  their  wickednefs.  Their  hiftory  is  not  related  at 
large  in  the  infpired  volume.  But,  from  hints  occa- 
fionally  dropped,  we  learn,  with  certainty,  that  moral 
evil  found  its  way  into  the  heavenly  abodes  :  and 
that  the  aggreffors  were  caft  down  to  hell,  there  to 
remain  in  chains  of  darknefs  till  the  time  of  judg- 
ment. We  may,  therefore,  apply  to  thefe  fuperior 
offenders,  the  obfervation  in  the  text  :  "  Lo,  this 
have  we  found,  that  God  made  his  angels  upright  ; 
but  fome,  even  of  that  auguft  order,  have  fought  out 
many  inventions." 

But,  from  the  apoftate  angels,  I  proceed  to  the 
firft  apoftates  of  the  human  fpecies.  It  is  granted, 
that  Adam  was  made  in  the  moral  image  of  God. 
And  as  a  part  of  our  firft  parent,  the  mother  of 

mankind 


SeRM.  XXXlJ  ORIGIN  ©F   EVIL.  365 

mankind  was  dignified  with  the  fame  likenefs.  But 
though  created  upright,  they  fought  out  many  in- 
ventions. The  hiftory  of  their  fall  is  briefly  related 
by  Mofes.  He  fays,  that  God  placed  them  in  the 
garden  of  Eden,  where  there  grew  every  tree,  which 
IS  pleafant  to  the  fight,  and  good  for  food  ;  alfo  the 
tree  of  life,  and  the  tree  of  knowledge.  Of  the  fruit 
of  thefe  trees,  God  permitted  them  freely  to  eat  ; 
that  only  excepted,  which  grew  in  the  midft  of  the 
garden.  Concerning  that  tree,  their  maker  had  faid, 
"  ye  fliall  not  eat  of  it,  neither  touch  it,  left  ye  die." 
But,  overcome  by  the  wiles  of  the  ferpent,  the  wo- 
man firft  tranfgrefled  the  divine  command,  and,  per- 
fuaded  by  her,  the  man  followed  her  example.  Such 
is  the  account  given  by  Mofes.  And  to  this  event, 
there  are  frequent  allulions  in  the  chriftian  revela- 
tion. Thus,  writing  to  the  Romans,  St.  Paul  ob- 
ferves,  "  by  one  man  fin  entered  into  the  world, 
and  death  by  fin."  And  admoniftiing  the  Corinthi- 
ans, he  ufes  thefe  words,  "  I  fear,  left  by  any  means, 
as  the  ferpent  beguiled  Eve  through  his  fubtilty,  fo 
your  minds  fliould  be  corrupted  from  the  fimplicity, 
which  is  in  Chrift."  And  in  his  epiftle  to  Timothy, 
he  remarks,  "  Adam  was  not  deceived  j  but  the  wo- 
man being  deceived,  was  in  the  tranfgrefiion." — 
And,  reproving  the  pharifees,  our  Saviour  himfelf 
has  an  allufion  to  the  agency  of  fatan  in  this  tranf- 
a£lion.  In  cafe  of  difobedience,  God  had  faid  to  our 
firft  parents,  "  ye  fiiall  die."  Satan,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  faid,  ye  fhall  not  die.  Believing  him, 
rather  than  their  maker,  they  tranfgreffed,  and,  by 
their  trangreilion,  brought  death  into  the  world, 
with  all  its  attendant  calamities.  On  this  fact,  our 
Saviour  grounds  the  following  pointed  reproof : 
'*  Ye  are  of  your  father  the  devil  j  and  the  lufts  of 

your 


^66  ORIGIN   OF   EVIL.  [SeRM.  XXXI. 

your  father  ye  will  do.  He  was  a  murderer  from 
the  beginning,  and  abode  not  in  the  truth,  becaufe 
there  is  no  truth  in  him.  When  he  fpeaketh  of  a 
lie,  he  fpeaketh  of  his  own  ;  for  he  is  a  liar,  and  the 
father  of  it."  Thus  is  the  mofaic  account  of  the 
fall  confirmed  by  our  Saviour,  and  his  apoftles.  How 
far  this  account  is  to  be  underftood  in  its  literal  fenfe, 
or  whether  any  part  be  allegorical,  it  is  not  my  pref- 
ent  bufinefs  to  inquire.  However  interpreted,  it 
confirms  the  remark  in  the  text,  "  that  God  made 
man  upright,  but  that  he  fought  out  many  inven- 
tions." 

And  the  remark  will  apply  to  all  fucceeding  gen- 
erations. The  crimes  of  mankind  multiplied  with 
their  numbers.  No  fooner  was  the  earth  filled  with 
inhabitants,  than  it  was  filled  with  violence.  And 
fo  enormoufly  wicked  were  the  human  fpecies  at  a 
certain  period,  that  God  deftroyed  them  from  the 
face  of  the  globe.  One  family  only  was  miracu- 
loufly  preferved,  in  order  that  the  race  of  man  might 
not  be  extindl.  And  fince  the  flood,  there  have  been 
times  of  great  depravity.  Particular  nations  have 
been  cut  off,  as  unfit  to  live.  Others  have  been  pun- 
ifhed  with  war,  peflilence,  famine,  or  captivity.  The 
vengeance  executed  on  devoted  nations,  is  a  proof 
that  their  crimes  were  enormous  ;  and  that  it  was 
neceffary  that  they  Ihould  be  held  up  as  examples  to 
mankind. 

And  there  are  many  inftances  of  impiety  and 
wilful  difobedience  at  the  prefent  day.  How  many 
perfons  are  there,  "  who  walk  in  the  vanity  of 
their  mind,  having  their  underftanding  darkened, 
and  being  alienated  from  the  life  of  God  through 
the  ignorance  which  is  in  them"  ?  How  many  are 
there,  who  have  "  given  themfelves  over  to  lafciv- 

ioufnefsj 


SeRM.  XXXI.]  ORIGIN    OF    EVIL*  ^6/ 

ioufnefs,  to  work  all  uncleannefs  with  greedinefs"  ? 
How  many  are  there,  who  are  filled  with  all  unrigh* 
teoufnefs,  fornication,  wickednefs,  covetoufnefs,  ma- 
licioufnefs,  envy,  deceit,  pride,  and  other  evil  afFec* 
tions  ?  In  Ihort,  how  many  perfons  can  we  find,  in 
the  great  mafs  of  fociety,  who  are  open  defpifers  of 
God  and  religion,  and  who  always  do  that,  which  is 
right  in  their  own  eyes  ?  Notwithftanding  the  ra- 
tional and  moral  nature  of  man  ;  notwitManding 
the  means  of  information,  with  which  he  is  in- 
dulged ;  notwithftanding  the  arguments,  addreffed 
to  his  underftanding,  and  the  admonitions,  urged  on 
his  confcience  j  yet  examples  of  fuch  depravity 
abound  in  the  world.  The  moft  enlightened  age, 
and  the  pureft  ftate  of  fociety,  are  not  without  the 
leven  of  wickednefs. 

But  the  reafon  is  juftly  affigned  in  the  text. 
"  Man,  though  formed  upright,  hath  fought  out 
many  inventions."  By  a  wilful  abufe  of  his  powers, 
he  has  depraved  himfelf.  He  has  chofen  to  follow 
the  devices  of  his  own  mind,  rather  than  the  dic- 
tates of  his  reafon  and  confcience.  He  has  chofen 
the  gratifications  of  fenfe,  in  preference  to  the  joys 
of  religion.  He  has  chofen  to  have  his  portion  in 
this  world,  rather  than  in  that  which  is  to  come.  In 
all  thefe  inftances,  he  has  aded  voluntarily.  No  vio- 
lence has  been  offered  to  his  inclinations.  Nor  have 
any  temptations  affailed  him,  which  he  was  not  able 
to  refift.  For  it  is  a  rule  in  the  divine  government, 
that  no  one  ftiould  be  tempted  above  that  which  he 
is  able  to  bear  ;  but  that,  with  every  temptation,  he 
fliould  be  furnifhed  with  the  means  of  efcape.  How- 
ever great,  then,  the  number,  or  aggravated  the  na- 
ture of  any  man's  vices,  he  has  no  one  to  blame  but 
liimfelf.  They  are  the  objeds  of  his  own  choice, 
and  tlje  fruits  of  his  own  invention*  Tha 


368  ORIGIN   OF   EVIL.  [SeRM.  XXXL 

The  word  invention  is  differently  ufed  by  the  in- 
fpired  writers.  Sometimes  it  means  linful  practices. 
Thus  the  pfalmift,  "  thou  anfweredft  them,  O  Lord 
our  God,  thou  waft  a  God  that  forgaveft  them, 
though  thou  tookeft  vengeance  of  their  inventions." 
At  other  times  it  means  idolatry.  Thus  again  the 
pfjrimift,  "  They  provoked  him  to  anger  with  their 
inventions,  and  the  plague  brake  in  upon  them. 
Thus  were  they  defiled  with  their  own  works,  and 
went  a  whoring  with  their  own  inventions.**  In  the 
text,  the  word  may  intend  wicked  pradices  ;  or  the 
arts,  by  which  men  have  reconciled  themfelves  to 
fiich  practices.  And  thefe  arts  will  appear  in  three 
particulars.  It  is  a  dictate  of  reafon  and  confcience, 
that  we  fhould  love,  obey,  and  do  homage  to  the 
one  true  God.  But,  inftead  of  following  this  dic- 
tate, mankind  have  paid  religious  homage  to  objeds 
of  their  own  invention.  Birds,  beafls,  and  creeping 
things  have  fuperfeded  him,  who  is  God  over  all, 
bleffed  forever  more.  Again — Reafon  teaches  us  to 
fpeak  the  truth  always,  to  pradife  righteoufnefs,  and 
to  exercife  charity.  But  the  human  heart  has  in- 
vented falfehood,  injuftice,  violence,  and  oppreflion, 
as  better  means  of  compafTmg  its  ends.  Again — We 
are  taught  by  nature  to  look  for  happinefs  in  the 
regulation  of  our  appetites,  and  the  government  of 
our  paffions.  But  intemperance,  debauchery,  and 
every  fpecies  of  fenfuality,  are  altogether  human  in- 
ventions. But  in  no  one  inftance  is  this  word  more 
pertinently  ufed,  than  when  applied  to  the  various 
ways,  to  which  men  have  had  recourfe,  in  order  to 
reconcile  a  wicked  life  with  the  hopes  and  pretences 
of  religion.  Here  they  have  difplayed  the  utmoft  in- 
genuity :  and  the  inventions,  which  they  have  fought 
out,  will  be  a  lafting  monument  of  the  deceitfulnefs 
of  fin.  From 


Serm.XXXL]        origin  of  evil.  ^6g 

From  the  fubject  of  this  difcourfe,  we  learn  the 
impiety  of  charging  God  with  our  tranfgreffions, 
and  the  rcafon  we  have  to  reproach  ourfelves  for  ev- 
ery a6l  of  difobedience.  It  is  certain,  that  he  cannot 
be  tempted  with  evil,  and  that  he  tempteth  no  man. 
It  is  certain,  that  he  made  man  upright,  and  that  he 
formed  him  for  virtue  and  happinefs*  It  is  likewife 
certain,  that  he  has  given  him  the  beft  inftruclions  ; 
fet  before  him  the  beft  examples  ;  and  prefented  the 
beft  motives.  Chriftians,  at  leaft,  will  not  deny,  that 
fuch  are  their  privileges  and  advantages.  How  deep- 
ly, then,  ought  they  to  be  humbled,  when  they  con- 
iider  their  wicked  inventions  ?  How  great  fhould  be 
their  confufion,  how  poignant  their  refledions,  how 
fincere  their  contrition,  when  they  review  the  foolifli 
and  criminal  anions,  of  which  they  have  been  guil- 
ty ?  They  cannot  plead  that  God  has  made  them  lin- 
ners.  They  cannot  charge  their  faults  upon  the  na- 
ture, which  he  has  given  them,  or  the  lituation,  iii 
which  they  are  placed  by  his  divine  providence.-— 
After  fearching  in  vain  for  objefts,  on  which  they 
may  refled  the  blame,  they  are  brought  home  to 
themfelves  ;  and  referred  to  their  own  hearts,  as  the 
proper  fource  of  their  unrighteoufnefs. 

Being,  therefore,  the  authors  of  our  own  depravi- 
ty, let  us  humble  ourfelves  before  God,  and  implore 
his  pardoning  mercy  through  Jefus  Chrift.  Let  us 
fincerely  repent  of  every  falfe  and  wicked  way  ;  and 
as  lincerely  let  us  endeavour  to  amend  them  Let 
us  no  longer  ftudy  excufes  for  a  courfe  of  behaviour, 
which  is  at  once  affrontive  to  God,  and  fubverfive  of 
all  rational  enjoyment.  But  let  us  own,  that  we 
have  ad:ed  a  foolifli  and  wicked  part  j  but  hope, 
through  the  grace  of  God,  to  offend  no  more.-— 
Finally,  let  us  repair  to  the  author  of  our  being, 
Y  y  intreating 


^$fO  NATURE    OF  [SeRM.  XXXII. 

intreating  him  to  work  in  us  to  will  and  to  do  of  his 
own  good  pleafure.  Let  it  be  our  daily  prayer,  that 
he  would  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  U5 
from  evil.  And  let  us  never  forget  thofe  words, 
which,  though  addreffed  to  Cain,  are  an  admonition 
to  us  all  :  "  If  thou  doeft  well,  Ihalt  thou  not  be  ac- 
cepted ?  if  thou  doeft  not  well,  fm  lieth  at  the  door." 


^txmon  XXXII. 


Nature  of  bad  Habits* 
2  Timothy,  hi.   13. 

"but   evil   men SHALL   WAX   WORSE   AND  WORSE.'* 

WE  can  turn  our  eyes  to  no  part  of  fcripture, 
without  meeting  with  fome  weighty  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  our  duty,  and  fome  powerful  mo- 
tive to  forfake  our  fms.  Sometimes  we  are  told  of 
the  exceedins:  evil  of  a  difobedicnt  life,  and  the  dif- 
grace  it  brings  upon  a  moral  intelligent  creature* 
At  other  times,  the  judgments  of  God  are  fet  before 
us.  Now  we  are  allured  with  the  hopes  of  heaven  ; 
and  now  deterred  with  the  pofitive  denunciations 
of  future  puniftiment.  And  to  leave  no  meafure 
untried,  "  evil  men  are  afTurcd,  that  fo  far  from  being 
recovered  in  their  laft  moments,  they  will,  in  all 
probability,  grow  worfe  and  worfe,  deceiving,  and  being 
deceived."  This  is  the  teftimony  of  St.  Paul  in  the 
text  5  and  to  this  I  would  now  aik  your  attention. 

First 


S;erm.  xxxii.1         fiAD  HAEit*^.  3^y. 

First — The  apoftle  aflerts,  that  "  evil  men  ivax 
worfe  and  ivorfe''  By  evil  men,  we  are  here  to  \in^' 
derftand,  open  and  notorious  tranfgrefibrs.  Perfons, 
who  have  made  but  fmall  progrefs  in  vice,  may  be 
recovered.  By  the  ordinary  means  of  grace,  they 
eften  are  brought  to  a  proper  fenfe  of  things.  And 
being  humbled  and  reformed,  they  becom.e  fome  of 
the  brighteft  ornaments  of  Chriftianity.  But  this  is 
feldom  the  cafe  with  thofe,  who  have  been  long  ac- 
cuftomed  to  do  evil.  The  longer  they  live,  the  more 
hardened  they  become.  And  though,  in  their  lafl 
moments,  they  fometimes  appear  to  have  a  ferious 
concern  refpeding  their  future  condition,  yet  we 
have  no  reafon  to  believe  that  any  faving  change 
takes  place.  It  amounts  to  the  higheft  moral  cer- 
tainty, that,  as  in  life,  fo  in  death,  they  are  enor- 
moufly  guilty  in  the  fight  of  God.  They  are,  as  it 
is  very  properly  exprelTed  in  fcripture,  "  driven 
away  in  their  wickednefs."  And  though  we  have 
no  right  to  determine  in  what  manner,  or  to  what 
degree  they  will  fuffer  hereafter,  yet  we  muft  fup- 
pofe,  that  their  guilt  will  be  a  fource  of  inexpreflible 
mifery. 

As  for  thofe,  who  have  never  fold  themfelves  to 
work  iniquity,  it  is  ealily  conceivable  that  they 
fliould  awake  to  ferious  refledion,  fhould  remember 
from  whence  they  have  fallen,  ihould  repent,  and  do 
their  firft  works.  Their  habits  are  not  fixed.  Their 
moral  fenfe  is  not  wholly  extinguifhed.  They  have 
fome  feeling ;  and  they  are  ftill  capable  both  of  fliame 
and  remorfe.  Hence  we  are  not  furprifed,  that,  af- 
ter his  difgraceful  fall,  Peter  fhould  become  a  true 
penitent,  and  a  good  man.  When  we  hear  David 
lamenting  his  mifcondud,  and  refolving  to  repair 
his  errors,  we  do  not  hear  any  thing  unnatural  or 

unexpected. 


37*  KAtuRE  Of  [Serm.  XXXIL 

unexpected.    It  may  always  be  prefumed,  that  men, 
who  accidentally  fall,  will  rife  again. 

But  it  is  unreafonable,  to  the  laft  degree,  to  ex- 
ped  that  fuch  as  have  grown  old  in  lin,  fhould,  juft 
at  the  clofe  of  life,  become  new  creatures.  It  is  con- 
trary to  the  eftabliflied  courfe  of  things.  It  is  con- 
trary to  adual  obfervation.  Look  at  thofe,  who 
through  life  have  worked  wickednefs,  and  you  will 
find,  that  religion  is' as  great  a  burden  to  them  when 
old,  as  when  in  the  midft  of  their  days.  If  poflible, 
they  are  lefs  difpofed  than  ever,  to  converfe  with 
God,  with  their  own  fouls,  or  with  that  volume, 
which  contains  their  duty,  and  reveals  to  them  a  fu- 
ture ftate.  Being  eftranged  from  God  by  wicked 
works,  they  do  not  feel  any  real  inclination  to  begin 
an  acquaintance.  It  is  a  burden  to  refled.  For 
which  reafon,  we  cannot,  in  general,  draw  a  more 
favourable  conclufion,  than  that  they  have  gone 
down  to  the  grave  with  all  their  guilt  upon  their 
heads. 

By  evil  men,  underftanding,  therefore,  thofe  who 
have  been  long  accuftomed  to  do  evil,  we  may  fay, 
that  they  wax  worfe  and  worfe.  The  longer  God 
fpares  their  lives,  the  more  guilt  they  contract.  If 
lying  be  the  vice,  to  which  they  have  been  longeft 
addided,  they  will  grow  worfe,  in  this  refped,  in 
proportion  as  they  have  more  opportunities  for  vio» 
lating  the  truth.  If  pradifed  in  any  dilhoneft  arts, 
they  will  grow  more  knavifh  as  they  grow  old.  If 
habitually  intemperate  now,  as  they  have  time,  op- 
portunity, and  the  means,  they  will  plunge  ftill 
deeper  in  this  moft  infamous  of  all  vices.  If  pro- 
fanenefs  and  infidelity  be  the  fins,  which  now  moft 
eafily  befet  them,  the  prefumption  is,  that  they  will 
become  ftill  more  impious  j  will  take  ftill  greater  lib- 
erties 


S2RM.  XXXII.3  BAD    HABITS.  373 

erties  with  God ;  and  will  become  more  inveterate 
againft  the  religion  of  his  fon.  Both  virtue  and  vice 
are  progreilive.  The  path  of  the  juft  fliines  more 
and  more.  The  longer  a  good  man  works  righteouf- 
nefs,  the  more  holy  and  exemplary  he  becomes.  He 
grows  continually  in  grace,  in  the  knowledge  of 
Chrift,  in  a  conformity  to  his  temper  and  gofpel,  and 
in  a  preparation  for  heaven.  So,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  longer  a  bad  man  works  wickednefs,  the  more 
eafy  he  feels  in  a  courfe  of  fin.  He  grows  experien- 
ced in  works  of  darknefs.  He  takes  delight  in  the 
fervice  of  fatan.  And  having,  at  length,  fubdued 
confcience,  and,  in  a  manner,  deftroyed  the  moral 
principle,  the  words  of  the  prophet  Jeremiah  are  ex* 
a<Elly  fuited  to  his  cafe.  "  Can  the  Ethiopian  change 
his  ikin,  or  the  leopard  his  fpots,  then  may  you  alfo 
do  good,  who  are  accuftomed  to  do  evil." 

It  being,  then,  an  undoubted  truth,  that  "  evil 
men  wax  worfe  and  in^orfe^^  I  fliall  now  endeavour  to 
account  for  the  facl.  And  one  reafon  of  their  in- 
creafing  wickednefs,  is  the  injury  done  to  natural 
confcience  by  their  vicious  practices.  The  moral 
principle  may  be  improved,  and  it  may  be  impaired. 
By  a  courfe  of  virtue,  confcience  will  acquire  fuch  a 
tendernefs,  as  to  be  a  moft  faithful  monitor,  guide, 
and  judge.  By  a  courfe  of  wickednefs,  it  will  be- 
come fo  hardened,  as  to  anfwer  no  moral  purpofe 
whatever.  It  is  well  known,  that  this  very  impor- 
tant part  of  our  nature  may  be  deftroyed.  Con- 
fcience may  become  ftupid  and  fenfelefs.  However 
corrupt  our  pradice,  it  may  give  us  no  uneafinefs  on 
that  account.  It  may  even  fpeak  peace  to  us,  when 
we  are  in  the  gall  of  bitternefs,  and  bond  of  iniquity. 
And  it  may  flatter  us  with  the  idea  of  perfed  fecu- 
rity,  when  there  is  but  a  ftep  between  us  and  ruin. 

I^EPRIVED, 


574  KATURE  or  [Serm.  XXXIL 

Deprived,  therefore,  of  the  inftrudions,  admoni- 
tions, reproofs,  and  warnings  of  confcience,  how 
natural  is  it,  that  evil  men  fliould  wax  worfe  and 
worfe  ?  Had  Peter  been  in  this  ftate,  we  never  Ihould 
have  heard  of  his  ftiame,  remorfe,  and  repentance. 
When  the  Lord  turned,  and  looked  on  him,  he 
would  not  have  gone  out,  and  wept  bitterly.  But 
the  confcience  of  Peter  was  not  feared  as  with  a  hot 
iron.  It  was  ftill  capable  of  performing  its  office. 
And  it  did  perform  it,  by  filling  him  with  an  ingen- 
uous forrow,  by  reducing  him  to  true  repentance, 
by  infpiring  him  with  chriftian  boldnefs,  by  forming 
him  to  the  character  of  a  good  man,  and  a  good 
apoftle,  and  by  confirming  him  in  the  noble  refolu- 
tion  of  dying  in  his  caufe,  whom  he  had  once  bafely 
denied.  Such  is  the  power  of  confcience,  where  it 
retains  its  moral  influence.  Where  its  influence  is 
loft,  how  deplorable  the  cafe  ?  How  hazardous  his 
Situation,  w^ho  is  deprived  of  this  faithful  monitor 
and  guide  ?  He  works  wickednefs  without  any  dif- 
treffing  apprehenfions,  unlefs  it  be,  when  a  concur- 
rence of  circumftances  has  roufed  hira  to  reflection. 
And,  without  any  fear  or  concern,  he  treafures  up 
wrath  againft  the  day  of  wrath,  and  the  revelation 
of  the  righteous  judgment  of  God. 

The  injury  done  to  confcience,  by  wicked  prac- 
tices, is,  then,  one  great  caufe  of  the  growing  ini- 
quity of  evil  men.  They  wax  worfe  and  worfe,  be- 
caufe  they  have  no  confcience  to  proteft  againft  their 
wickednefs.  They  have  nothing  within  to  accufe 
and  punifli  them.  They  have  filenced  the  voice  of 
that  divine  inftructer,  to  whom  heaven  had  com- 
mitted the  charge  of  their  innocence.  Confequent- 
ly,  they  feel  at  liberty  to  fulfil  the  defire  of  the  flefli 
and  the  mind.     And  they  go  on,  making  themfelves 

vile, 


Serm.  XXXII.]  bad  habits.-  375 

vile,  till  the  fentence  has  gone  forth,  "  let  him  that 
is  filthy,  be  filthy  ftill." 

Secondly — Wicked  men  wax  worfe  and  worfe.,, 
becaufe  they  have  loft  a  very  powerful  reftraint, 
arifing  from  a  fenfe  of  jhame.  This  fenfe  has  a  very 
confiderable  influence  over  fuch,  as  are  not  abfolutely 
hardened.  Perfons  of  this  defcription  will  often  pay 
a  very  great  regard  to  outward  appearances.  They 
will  abftain  from  many  enormities,  merely  becaufe 
they  would  feel  afhamed,  fliould  their  wickednefs 
happen  to  be  detected.  They  imagine  they  fhould 
not  dare  to  look  mankind  in  the  face,  that  they 
muft  fly  from  all  human  fociety,  that  they  muft 
bury  themfelves  in  fome  dreary  folitude,  fhould  they 
yield  to  the  wicked  defires  which  fpring  up  in  the 
mind.  Under  this  impreflion,  they  abftain  from 
many  wilful  tranfgreffions.  And  if,  at  any  time, 
they  are  drawn  away,  and  enticed,  they  are  eafily 
recovered,  by  means  of  the  difagreeable  fenfations 
excited  in  them.  But  the  finners  referred  to,  in  the 
text,  are  incapable  of  thefe  feelings.  They  have  be- 
come indiflerent  to  the  opinions  of  the  world  :  they 
have  no  regard  to  appearances.  For  which  reafon, 
they  act  according  to  their  corrupt  inclinations,  in 
defiance  of  God,  and  in  defiance  of  mankind. 

Thirdly — Wicked  men  wax  worfe  and  worfe, 
becaufe  of  their  utter  indifpofition  to  attend  to  thofe 
means,  which  have  a  tendency  to  recover  them  from 
fin,  and  reftore  them  to  their  duty.  The  frequent, 
and  careful  perufal  of  the  holy  fcriptures,  is  one  very 
powerful  mean  of  grace.  The  inftrudions,  admoni- 
tions, promifes,  and  threatenings  of  the  new-tefta- 
ment,  are  admirably  fuited  to  turn  men  from  fin  to 
holinefs.  The  pfalmift  well  obferves,  "  the  law  of 
the  Lord  is  perfed,  converting  the  foul.    The  tefti- 

mony 


37^  NATURE  OF  [Serm.  XXXIL 

mony  of  the  Lord  is  fure,  making  wife  the  fimple. 
The  ftatutes  of  the  Lord  are  right,  rejoicing  the 
hearty  the  commandment  of  the  Lord  is  pure,  en* 
lightening  the  eyes."  And  again,  "  O  how  I  love 
thy  law  1  it  is  my  meditation  all  the  day.  Thou, 
through  thy  commandments,  haft  made  me  wifer 
than  mine  enemies  ;  for  they  are  ever  with  me.  I 
have  more  underftanding  than  all  my  teachers,  for 
thy  teftimonies  are  my  meditation.  How  fweet  are 
thy  words  unto  my  tafte  !  yea,  fweeter  than  honey 
to  my  mouth.  Through  thy  precepts  I  get  under- 
ftanding ;  therefore,  I  hate  every  falfe  way."  In 
this  language,  David  defcribes  the  Jewifh  fcriptures. 
But  had  he  been  acquainted  with  the  chriftian  reve- 
lation, he  might  have  faid  more.  The  gofpel  of 
Chrift  has  certainly  many  advantages  compared  with 
the  law  of  Mofes.  It  contains  better  rules  of  con- 
duft.  Its  dodlrines  are  more  interefting  and  fublime* 
And  its  fandions  are  far  more  folemn  and  afFeding. 
Hence  it  is  able  to  build  us  up,  and  give  us  an  inher- 
itance among  them  that  are  fandified. 

The  fcriptures,  then,  are  an  invaluable  treafure. 
And  he,  who  confults  them  with  a  proper  temper, 
will  be  furnilhed  to  every  good  word  and  work. — 
But  all  thefe  advantages  are  loft  upon  evil  men  :  for 
they  never  recur  to  thofe  fcriptures,  either  for  en- 
tertainment or  inftruclion.  The  oracles  of  God  are 
to  them  a  fealed  book.  They  confult  them  on  no 
occafion,  unlefs  for  the  profane  purpofe  of  turning 
them  into  ridicule.  Did  they  read  their  bibles,  they 
might  poflibly  be  impreffed  with  their  guilt  and  dan- 
ger. They  might  fee  themfelves,  and  be  induced  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  They  might  be  daz- 
zled with  the  light  and  glory  of  the  heavenly  world : 
might  be  attvaded  by  the  honours,  which  await  the 

righteous  j 


SeRM.  XXXII.]  BAD    HABITS.  ^Jf 

righteous  ;  and  by  the  various  arguments,  urged  by 
the  gofpel,  might  be  perfuaded  to  perfect  holinefs  in 
the  fear  of  the  Lord.  Such  advantages  might  they 
reap  from  the  volume  of  revelation,  if  they  ever  had 
recourfe  to  it.  But  being  ftrangers  to  this  facred 
ftudy,  they  are  ftrangers  to  thefe  effecls.  Becaufe 
-they  do  not  admit  the  feed  into  their  hearts,  they 
Continue  unfruitful.  In  fliort,  th€  word,  however 
excellent  in  itfelf,  and  in  its  tendency,  does  not  pro- 
fit evil  men,  becaufe  there  is  no  opportunity  for  it  to 
produce  its  proper  effeds,  either  upon  their  tempers 
or  morals.  So  far,  therefore,  from  being  an  effential 
•benefit  to  fuch  perfons,  the  word  will  eventually  be 
-the  means  of  increafing  both  their  guilt,  and  their 
punifliment. 

But  the  ftudy  of  the  holy  fcriptures  is  Hot  the 
'Only  means,  which  evil  men  negled.     They  alfo  neg- 
kd  an  attendance  on  public  worfhip,  and  the  inftruc- 
-tions  difpenfed  in  the  houfe  of  God  ;    and  this  is 
another  reafon  why  they  wax  worfe  and  worfe.     It 
cannot  be  denied,  that  the  public  inftitutions  of  re- 
ligion have  am  oft  admirable  tendency.     There  is  far 
more  piety  in  the  world,  far  more  juftice,  more  be- 
nevolence, and  more  virtue  of  every  kind,  than  if 
-no  fuch  inftitutions  had  taken  place.     No  man  of 
common  underftanding  will  pretend,  that  fociety  is 
not  greatly  indebted  to  them.     We,  my  hearers,  in 
this  country,  fliould  never  have  been  fo  civilized,  fo 
enlightened,  fo  free,  fo  happy,  as  we  now  are,  had 
not  our  fathers  brought  their  religion  with  them, 
and  had  not  the  public  offices  of  devotion  been  ef- 
teemed  an  elTential  part  of  that  religion.     In  places 
where  God  is  not  worftiipped,  nor  the  gofpel  preach- 
ed, there  is  generally  a  great  proftration  of  all  prin- 
,  ciple.    Darknefs  and  vice  Gverlpread  fuch  places  ; 
Z  2^  and 


3^8  Nature  o?  [Se^m.  XXXII. 

and  the  longer  they  continue  deflitute  of  public  in- 
ilrudiion,  the  more  depraved  they  become. 

It  muft,  then,  be  admitted,  that  the  affembling  of 
ourfclves  together,  in  order  to  worfhip  God,  to  hear 
his  word,  to  fing  his  praifc,  and  to  attend  to  the 
word  preached,  has  a  moft  direct  tendency  to  check 
the  progrefs  of  vice,  and  to  promote  the  caufe  of  vir- 
tue. But  no  fuch  advantages  are  derived  from  hence 
by  evil  men,  becaufe  they  will  not  make  a  proper  ufe 
of  the  means.  In  the  public  prayers  addreffed  to  the 
Deity§  they  are  not  prefent  to  bear  their  part.  The 
word  is  read,  but  they  are  not  in  the  way  of  hearing 
that  word.  And  as  to  the  moral  and  practical  truths, 
■which  are  difpenfed  every  Lord's-day,  they  do  not 
immediately  profit  evil  men,  becaufe  perfons  of  this 
chafacler  are  dtherwife  employed,  than  in  liftening 
to  a  religious  difcourfe.  Could  they  be  perfuaded  to 
attend  divine  fervice,  they  might  pofiibly  hear  fome- 
thing,  which  would  make  them  afraid,  or  afliamed 
of  their  vices.  They  might  be  convinced  of  the  ex- 
ceeding evil  of  fm,  of  the  charms  of  virtue,  of  the 
pleafures  of  religion  ;  they  might  be  led  to  fee  their 
true  intereft'in  forfaking  the  error  of  their  way,  and 
returning  to  a  courfe  of  duty.  Have  they  doubts 
refpe6ling  the  divine  authority  of  the  gofpel  ?  thofe 
doubts  might  in  this  cafe  pollibly  be  removed.  Have 
they  faid  in  their  heart,  there  is  no  God  ?  who  can 
fay  but  a  conviction  of  his  being,  perfections,  and 
providence,  may  be  the  happy  confequence  of  their 
attendance  in  his  courts  ?  Have  they  entertained 
any  doubts  refpe6ting  a  future  ftate  ?  may  they  not 
receive  fatisfaftion  from  the  arguments  fometimes 
offered  upon  this  head  ?  Have  they  been  accuftomed 
to  think  lightly  of  their  duty  ?  is  it  not  credible, 
that  j^  fleady. attendance^ on  a  courfe  of  preaching 
»-  -*  .,   ..       may 


SeRM.  XXXII. J  BAD    HABITS.  ^7^ 

may  correct  this  miftake  ?  I  prefume  it  is  not  a£- 
cribing  too  much  to  the  public  miniftration  of  the 
word,  to  infift,  that,  if  duly  attended  to,  it  would 
turn  the  wicked  man  from  his  wickednefs  ;  and  dif- 
pofe  him  to  do  that,  which  is  lawful  and  right. 

How  natural,  then,  the  increafmg  wickednefs  of 
evil  men,  when,  among  others,  they  neglecl  this  very 
powerful  mean  of  becoming  wifer  and  better  ?  They 
forget  that  there  is  a  God,  becaufe  they  do  not  fuf- 
fer  themfelves  to  be  reminded  of  him.  They  forget 
their  duty,  becaufe  they  do  not  hear  it  ftatedly  in- 
culcated upon  their  minds.  They  do  not  realize 
that  they  are  accountable  creatures,  that  they  muft 
foon  die,  that  there  is  a  day  of  judgment,  and  a  ftate 
of  retribution,  becaufe  they  are  never  in  the  way  of 
hearing  thefe  truths  ftated  and  defended.  Hence 
they  wax  worfe  and  worfe  ;  their  vicious  habits  be- 
come more  inveterate  ;  and  they  removed  to  a  ftill 
greater  diftance  from  God  and  happinefs. 

Thus  have  I  endeavoured  to  account  for  the  very 
alarming  fad,  mentioned  in  the  text.  Evil  men  be* 
come  more  evil,  becaufe  their  hearts  are  hardened, 
and  their  confciences  ftupified  ;  becaufe  they  have 
loft  all  Ihame  ;  becaufe  they  negle<5l  the  means  of 
grace,  and  becaufe  they  allow  themfelves  no  time  to 
conlider  the  nature  and  confequences  of  their  actions. 
Thus  inclined  to  evil,  God  fuffers  them  to  make 
themfelves  vile.  My  fpirit,  he  is  ready  to  fay,  fhall 
not  always  ftrive  with  fuch  tranfgreffors.  "  Inaf- 
much  as  ye  have  hated  knowledge,  and  did  not 
choofe  the 'fear  of  the  Lord  ;  as  ye  would  none  of 
my  counfel,  and  defpifed  all  my  reproof,  therefore, 
fliall  ye  eat  of  the  fruit  of  your  own  way  j  and  be 
filled  with  your  own  devices." 

From  this  view  of  things,  how  thankful  ought 

thofc 


^86  NATujtE  or  [Serm.  XXXIL 

thofe  to  be,  who  have  never  abandoned  themfelves 
to  a  vicious  courfe  of  living.  How  unfeignedly 
ought  they  to  blefs  God  for  the  reftraints  of  his 
grace.  In  many  things,  perhaps,  they  have  offend- 
ed ;  and  in  all  they  have  fallen  Ihort.  Still,  how- 
ever, they  have  never  wholly  loft  fight  of  their  duty ; 
nor  come  to  the  ferious  determination  to  throw  off 
all  reftraint,  and  give  themfelves  up  to  that  infernal 
fpirit,  that  worketh  in  the  children  of  difobedience. 
They  have  never  faid  in  their  heart,  there  is  no  God. 
Or,  owning  his  exiftence,  they  have  never  infulted 
him  in  the  following  terms  :  Depart  from  us,  for  we 
defire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.  Thus  gra- 
Oioufly  preferved  from  the  great  tranfgreiTion,  they 
ought  to  blefs  God  for  his  goodnefs.  It  ought  to  be 
a  part  of  their  daily  prayer,  lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion, but  deliver  us  from  evil.  And,  without  cealing, 
they  fhould  aik  of  God  to  keep  them  by  his  mighty 
power,  through  faith,  unto  falvation. 

SECONDLY--r?From  the  text  we  learn  how  falfely 
they  argue,  who  pretend,  that  the  worfe  a  man  is, 
the  greater  his  profpe£t  of  being  made  a  fubject  of 
that  converfion,  which  is  reprefented  in  fcripture,  as 
the  great  qualification  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
It  has  been  openly  maintained,  that  perfons,  who 
have  fome  good  qualities,  are  farther  from  heaven, 
than  thofe,  who  are  enormoufly  bad.  And  were 
two  perfons  going  to  execution,  the  one  diffolved  in 
tears,  the  other  blafpheming  God,  and  deriding  his 
fate,  it  has  been  aflerted,  that  a  work  of  grace  would 
more  probably  be  wrought  on  the  latter,  than  the 
former.  How  thefe  affertions  can  be  reconciled  with 
fcripture,  is  abfolutely  inconceivable.  Had  they  any 
foundation,  it  would  be  proper  to  exhort  habitual 
tranfgreifors  to  wax  worfe  and  worfe.    The  preacher 

fliould 


Serm.  XXXH.3  bad  habits^  ^81 


o'' 


fliould  afiure  the  more  profligate  part  of  his  charge, 
that  it  was  for  their  intereft  to  perfevere  :  that  the 
heavier  their  load  of  guilt,  the  fooner  they  would 
find  relief  :  the  deeper  their  moral  ftain,  the  fooner 
it  would  be  waflied  out.  And  this  would  be  as  con- 
fiftent,  as  if  a  prodigal  was  exhorted  to  wafte  all  his 
fubftance,  in  order  to  grow  rich  ;  or  the  intemperate 
man  to  indulge  ftill  more,  in  order  to  recover  his 
health. 

The  lefs  we  any  of  us  have  departed  from  the 
line  of  duty,  the  eafier  it  will  be  to  break  oft  our  fins 
by  righteoufnefs,  and  our  iniquities  by  turning  to 
God.  Every  flep  we  take  downward,  renders  our 
return  more  arduous.  Wherefore,  let  us  not  ven- 
ture into  the  path  of  vice,  prefuming  that  we  may 
at  any  time  retreat.  Let  us  inflantly  forfake  that 
dangerous  path,  for  it  is  the  way  to  hell.  Let  us 
avoid  it,  turn  from  it,  and  pafs  away.  Let  us  im^ 
plore  the  pardoning  mercy  of  God,  on  account  of 
the  guilt  already  contrafted.  And  whilfl  thankful 
that  we  have  made  ourfelves  no  worfe,  let  us  pray 
God  to  make  us  better.  Let  us  watch  and  pray, 
that  we  fall  not  into  temptation.  And  having  our 
duty,  and  our  danger  continually  in  view,  inftead  of 
waxing  worfe  and  worfe,  our  path  will  fliine  moxQ 
apd  more  unto  the  perfed  day. 


•Af'^^^^^l'd^*' 


^tvmm 


3^2  ON    KEGENEUATION.         [SeRM.XXXIIL 


sermon  xxxiii. 


On  Regeneration, 


I  Peter,  i.  23. 

"  EEING  BORN  AGAIN,  NOT  OF  CORRUPTIBLE  SEED, 
BUT  OF  INCORRUPTIBLE,  BY  THE  WORD  OF  GOD, 
WHICH   LIVETH   AND   ABIDETH    FOREVER." 

WHEN  our  blelTed  Saviour  was  on  earth,  he 
received  a  vifit,  as  you  may  recoliedt,  from  an 
eminent  ruler  of  the  Jews.  During  that  vilit,  and 
in  the  courfe  of  converfation,  which  then  paffed,  our 
Lord  advanced  the  following  fentiment  :  "  Except  a 
man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  fee  the  kingdom  of 
God."  Aftonifhed  at  fuch  a  doctrine,  the  ruler  inr 
quired,  "  how  can  a  man  be  born  when  he  is  old  ; 
can  he  enter  the  fecond  time  into  his  mother's  womb, 
and  be  born  ?"  The  Saviour  replied,  "  except  a 
man  be  born  of  water  and  of  the  fpirit,  he  cannot  en- 
ter into  the  kingdom  of  God.  That  which  is  born 
of  the  ilefh,  is  flefh  ;  and  that  which  is  born  of  the 
fpirit,  is  fpirit.  Marvel  not  that  I  faid  unto  you, 
ye  mull  be  born  again."  This  explanation  did  not, 
however,  fatisfy  the  inquirer  ;  he  was  full  prompted 
to  afk,  "  how  can  thefe  things  be  ?"  He  did  not 
perceive,  that  our  Saviour  was  fpeaking  merely  of  a 
moral  change  ;  and  of  the  neceflity  of  a  change,  in 
order  to  be  capable  of  celeftial  happinefs.  His  dul- 
nefs  of  apprehenfion,  and  his  backwardnefs  to  be- 
lieve, ar^,  therefore,  reproved  in  the  following  terms  i- 
"  Art  thou  a  mafter  of  Ifrael,  and  knoweft  not  thefe 
things  ?"  This 


SeRM.  XXXIII.]         ON    REGENERATION.  383 

This  reproof  might,  with  equal  juftlce,  be  applied 
to  ourfelves,  if  ignorant  of  the  nature,  of  the  author, 
and  of  the  neeefiity  of  that  moral  change,  which  was 
firft  taught  by  our  divine  Lord,  and  afterwards  in- 
culcated by  the  apoftles.  It  is  true,  the  fubjecl  has 
fometimes  been  treated  in  a  very  myilerious  manner. 
And  many  ferious  minds  have  been  perplexed  and 
bewildered,  by  the  numerous  comments,  which  have 
been  made  on  the  terms,  ufed  by  the  facred  writers, 
to  exprefs  a  change  from  vice  to  virtue,  and  the  fub- 
ftitution  of  good  habits  and  principles  for  bad  ones. 
But,  l^owever  it  might  appear  to  the  Jcwifh  ruler, 
to  us,  the  fubje<5l  is  not  neceffarily  obfcure.  It  fo 
often  occurs  in  the  chriftian  writings,  that  we,  who 
have  accefs  to  thofe  writings,  may,  if  we  will  give 
ourfelves  the  trouble  to  inquire,  eafily  afcertain  what 
is  to  be  underftood  by  being  horn  agai7i.  Out  of  many 
paffages,  in  which  the  dodrine  is  contained,  I  have 
made  choice  of.  the  following  :  "  Being  born  again, 
not  of  corruptible  feed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the 
word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever." 
It  fhall  be  my  endeavour  to  illuflrate  the  feveral 
truths  expreffed  in  thefe  words. 

First — The  apoftle  addreffes  thofe,  for  whofe  in- 
flrudion  and  confolation  his  epiftle  was  more  im- 
mediately intended,  as  being  born  again.  He  had  be- 
fore obferved,  that  they  had  been  redeemed  from 
their  vain  converfationj  received  by  tradition  from 
their  fathers.  He  had  alfo  commended  their  faith 
in  God,  who  raifed  up  Chrift  from  the  dead  ;  and 
had  acknov/ledged  its  efficacy,  in  purifying  their 
fouls.  In  the  text,  he  fpeaks  of  them  as  "  born  again^ 
not  of  corruptible  feed,  but  of  incorruptible."— 
Comparing  all  thefe  terms,  it  appears,  that  thefe  per- 
fons  had,  by  means  of  the  gofpel,  been  recovered 

fron^ 


3^4  ON    REGENERATION*      [SeR-M.  XXXIII. 

from  a  ftate  of  ignorance  and  wickednefs,  and  had 
been  formed  to  the  temper  and  charader  of  true 
Chriftians.  They  had  been  converted  from  infidel- 
ity to  the  belief,  and  from  a  courfe  of  immorality  to 
a  life  of  religion.,  To  ufe  the  language  of  infpira- 
tion,  they  "  had  put  off,  concerning  the  former  con- 
verfation,  the  old  man,  which  is  corrupt j  according 
to  the  lufts  of  deceit  ;  and  liad  put  on  the  new  man, 
which,  after  God,  is  created  in  righteoufnefs,  and 
true  holinefs."  Morally  fpeaking,  they  had  become 
Tiew  creatures.  All  thefe  expreflions  are  familiar  to 
thofe,  who  are  converfant  with  the  facred  writings. 
They  imply  a  thorough  reformation,  both  of  heart 
and  life. 

The  change,  however,  or  fecond  birth,  mentioned 
in  the  text,  will  be  beft  underftood  by  attending  to 
its  efFe£ls.  Let  it,  then,  be  carefully  obferved,  that 
they,  who  are  born  again,  will  be  eflentially  improv- 
ed, both  in  their  temper  of  mind,  and  their  external 
behaviour.  They  will  demonftrate  the  divine  opera- 
tion on  their  hearts  by  a  fpirit  of  fervent  piety,  by 
a  fupreme  love  to  God,  by  the  warmed  gratitude  to 
Chrift,  by  meeknefs,  forbearance,  humility,  and  be- 
nevolence, by  the  fame  mind  which  ad;uated  the  fon 
of  God,  and  which  is  the  temper  of  his  religion.— 
When  born  again,  he,  who  was  once  impious,  will 
be  devout  ;  he,  who  once  lived  without  God  in  the 
world,  will  be  deeply  imprelTed  with  the  perfections 
of  his  nature  ;  he,  who  feldom  refleded  on  his  ma- 
ker, will  think  of  him  with  delight  ;  he,  who  felt  a 
cold  indifference  towards  the  Saviour,  will  be  in- 
Ipired  with  unfeigned  love  ;  he,  who  once  experi- 
enced the  malignant  influence  of  envy,  jealoufy, 
pride,  and  felf-love,  will  be  delivered  from  thefe 
hateful  pailions  j  he,  .who  was  once  a  Have  to  flefhiy 

lufts, 


SeRM.  XXXIII.]  ON    REGENERATION.  3J5 

lufts,  which  war  againft  the  foul,  will  gain  a  vidlory 
over  them  ;  he,  who  was  once  conformed,  in  his 
opinions  and  principles,  to  this  world,  will  be  tranf- 
formed  by  the  renewing  of  his  mind,  and  will  be- 
come a  partaker  of  the  divine  nature.  Unlefs  the 
heart  be  thus  purified,  and  its  affedions  be  regulated 
in  the  manner  which  I  have  defcribed,  there  has  not 
been  any  change  anfwerable  to  the  terms  employed 
in  the  text.  He,  who  retains  his  old  habits  and  pat 
fions,  is  fatally  deceived,  if  he  imagine  that  he  is  born 
of  water,  and  of  the  fpirit.  The  new  creation  ne- 
ceflarily  implies  a  heart  right  with  God,  and  the  pe- 
culiar temper  of  the  gofpel. 

Further — The  efFeds  of  this  important  change 
may  be  traced  in  the  life  and  adions  of  thofe, 
who  are,  not  in  imagination,  but  in  reality,  fubjed:s 
of  it.  If  the  heart  be  purified,  the  life  will  be  re- 
formed. He,  who,  in  a  fpiritual  fenfe,  is  "  rifen  with 
Chrift,  will  feek  thofe  things  which  are  above."  Be- 
ing turned  from  darknefs  to  light,  he  will  be  recov- 
ered from  the  flavery  of  fatan  to  the  fervice  of  God. 
Being  liberated  from  evil  paflions,  he  will  have  his 
fruit  unto  holinefs.  His  afFedions  being  fet  right, 
he  will  ceafe  to  do  evil,  and  will  earnefl:ly  endeavour 
to  do  well.  His  obedience  will  be  uniform,  becaufe 
inclination  will  concur  with  confcience  in  enforcing 
a  ftrid  obfervance  of  all  the  commandments  and  or- 
dinances of  the  Lord.  To  God,  he  will  confecrate 
all  his  powers ;  to  him,  he  will  render  his  unfeigned 
homage  :  in  him,  he  will  confide ;  and  before  him, 
he  will  walk  in  righteoufnefs,  and  true  holinefs,  all 
his  days.  To  the  faviour,  he  will  alfo  yield  that  fub- 
miflion,  which  is  due  to  one,  whom  the  father  has 
fanctified,  and  fent  into  the  world  to  blefs  mankind, 
by  turning  them  from  their  iniquities.  He  will  rev- 
A  a  a  erence 


386  ON    REGENERATION.         [SeRM.  XXXIII. 

erence  his  authority,  and  follow  his  example.  To- 
wards his  fellow-men,  he  will  condud  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner, as  to  verify  his  profeflions  of  juftice,  mercy,  and 
truth.  Nor  will  he  be  lefs  attentive  to  thofe  duties, 
which  more  immediately  concern  himfelf,  and  which 
are  of  a  private  nature.  He  will,  from  principle,  keep 
himfelf  unfpotted  of  the  world.  Thus  will  he,  who 
is  born  again,  fliow  that  he  has  been  created  anew, 
by  a  temper  worthy  of  the  gofpel,  and  by  a  life  of 
tlie  moft  exalted  piety  and  virtue.  Agreeable  to  this, 
is  the  teftimony  of  John  :  "  Whofoever  is  born  of 
God,  doth  not  commit  lin  y  for  his  feed  remaineth 
in  him  ;  and  he  cannot  lin,  becaufe  he  is  born  of 
God." 

Having  defcribed  the  fecond  birth,  by  referring 
to  its  effeds,  I  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  to  afcertain 
its  caufe.  And,  according  to  the  apollle,  "  we  are 
born  again,  not  of  corruptible  feed,  but  of  incorrupt- 
ible, that  is,  by  the  word  of  God."  By  the  word, 
to  which  fuch  efficacy  is  afcribed,  St.  Peter*means 
the  gofpel,  of  which  he  was  a  fuccefsful  preacher. 
It  is  ftyled  incorruptible  feed,  becaufe  its  defign  and 
tendency  are,  to  render  us  immortal.  As  defcending 
from  mojifeal  parents,  we  are  born  to  die.  Our  def- 
tination,  in  this  view,  is  illuflrated  by  that  of  the 
grafs,  and  the  flowers.  Hence  the  text  is  immedi- 
ately followed  by  this  pertinent  remark  :  "  For  all 
flefh  is  as  grafs,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as  the  flow- 
er of  grafs  ;  the  grafs  withereth,  and  the  flower 
thereof  falleth  away."  Thus  does  our  firft  birth 
fubjecl  us  to  mortality,  in  common  with  the  various 
members  of  the  vegetable  kingdom. 

But  our  fecond  birth,  by  means  of  the  gofpel, 
will  be  attended  with  very  different  confequences.  If 
born  again,  we  fliall  be  raifed  to  a  glorious  and  blef- 

fed 


SERM.XXXm.]  ON    REGENERATION.  5$7 

fed  immortality,  at  the  fecond  coming  of  our  re- 
deemer.    We  fliall  then  hear  his  voice,  and  come 
forth  ;  and  awaking  in  his  likenefs,  we  fhall  be  like 
the  holy  angels,  on  whom  death  has  no  power.     The 
moral  change,  produced  by  the  gofpel,  will  be  fol- 
lowed  by  fnch  a  natural  change,  that  whatever  was 
once  mortal  in  us,  will  then  be  fwallowed  up  of  life. 
Thus  will  our  corruptible  put  on  incorruption  ;  and 
thus  will  this  temporary  frame  be  exchanged  for  a 
"  building  of  God,  a  houfe  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens." 

In  this  view,  the  word  of  the  Lord  is  incorrupti- 
ble feed  ',    and  that  it  is  effeaual  to  the  illumination 
of  the  underftanding,  and  the  reformation  of  the 
heart  and  life,  may  be  inferred  from  dired  teftimo- 
ny,  and  from  an  infpeclion  of  the  fyftem  itfelf.  ^  The 
efficacy  of  the  word  is  clearly  maintained  by  its  in- 
fpired  preachers.      Writing  to  the  Corinthians,  St. 
Paul  fays,  "  in  Chrift  Jefus  I  have  begotten  you 
through  the  gofpel."     In  his  epiftle  to  the  Ephefians, 
he  fp?aks  of  the  church,  as  "  fandified  and  cleanfed 
with  the  wafliing  of  water,  by  the  word."    St.  James 
expreffes  himfelf  in  the  following  terms  :    «  Of  his 
own  will,  begat  he  us  with  the  word  of  truth,  that 
we  ftiould  be  a  kind  of  firft  fruits  of  his  creatures." 
And,  in  other  places,  the  gofpel  is  reprefented  as 
"  the  power  of  God  to  falvation  ;  as  able  to  build  us 
up,  and  to  give  us  an  inheritance  among  thofe  who 
are  fancT:ified  j  as  quick  and  powerful,"  and  adequate 
to  the  correa?on  of  our  errors,  and  the  conqueft  of 
our  lufts  and  paffions.     Thefe  reprefentations  of  the 
chriftian  revelation  confirm  the  doctrine  in  the  text, 
that  it  is  the  inftrument  employed,  by  infinite  wif- 
dom,  to  change  the  human  heart,  and  render  men 

new  creatures. 

An» 


585  ON  REGENERATION.        [SeRM.  XXXIIL 

And  if  we  examine  the  fyftem  itfelf,  we  fliall  be 
convinced  of  the  divine  efficacy  of  the  gofpel.  Its 
do6lrines,  if  attended  to,  will  pour  in  light  on  the 
mind.  They  will  corred  all  dangerous  miftakes,  re- 
lative to  the  character  and  government  of  God,  his 
holy  will,  and  benevolent  defigns  ;  all  miftakes  re- 
lating to  our  own  moral  ftate,  the  falvation  for  ; 
which  our  circumftances  called,  and  the  Saviour  pro-  ' 
vided.  The  traditions,  received  by  the  Gentiles  from 
their  fathers,  were  a  fource  of  the  moft  fatal  errors. 
They  tended,  at  the  fame  time,  to  darken  the  under- 
ftanding,  and  to  deprave  the  heart.  But  the  gofpel, 
defcribing  the  character,  and  containing  the  will  of 
God,  could  not  be  cordially  received  as  a  rule  of 
faith,  without  irradiating  the  mind,  and  producing 
the  moft  extenlive  acquaintance  with  God,  and  du 
vine  things.  The  doftrines  of  revelation  comprife 
every  thing,  which  it  concerns  us  to  know,  in  order 
to  the  moral  perfection  of  our  nature.  As  far, 
therefore,  as  religious  information  is  the  privilege 
and  ornament  of  thofe,  who  are  born  again,  fo  far 
the  change  is  produced  by  the  gofpel. 

Further — The  word  of  God  is  the  inftrument  of 
our  converfion,  as  it  points  out  the  vices,  which  we 
muft  forfake,  and  the  duties,  which  we  muft  per- 
form ;  as  it  corrects  our  faults,  and  inftruds  us  in 
righteoufnefs.  There  is  not  any  good  principle, 
good  habit,  or  good  aftion,  for  which  the  gofpel 
does  not  furnifli  either  a  rule  or  a  motive.  It  ex- 
pofes  all  the  follies  and  infirmities,  to  which  we  are  | 
liable :  and  it  exhibits  a  rule  of  adion  fuited  to  all 
jperfons,  ages,  and  circumftances.  Applied  to  the 
preceptive  part  of  the  gofpel,  the  words  of  David  are 
literally  true  :  the  laws  of  Chrift  "  are  perfed,  con- 
V^rtin^  the  foul.    His  teftimony  is  fure,  making  wife 

the 


Serm.XXXIII.]      on  regeneration.  389 

the  fimple.  His  ftatutes  are  right,  rejoicing  the 
heart.  His  commandment  is  pure,  enlightening  the 
eyes."  The  rules  prefcribed  by  Chrift,  for  the  re- 
formation of  the  heart,  for  the  regulation  of  the  af- 
fedions,  and  for  the  government  of  our  lives,  are 
adequate  to  thofe  great  objefts.  When  they  have 
their  full  effect,  they  render  thofe,  on  whom  they 
operate,  wife  to  falvation. 

Taking,  then,  an  impartial  view  of  the  gofpel ; 
confidering  the  efficacy  afcribed  to  it  by  its  infpired 
teachers  j  confidering  its  fublime  dodrines,  particu- 
larly that  of  a  future  ftate  of  retribution  ;  confider- 
ing its  numerous  precepts,  and  powerful  motives  ; 
in  a  word,  confidering  it  as  a  perfed  rule  of  faith 
and  pradice,  we  may  jufi:ly  regard  it  as  the  incor- 
ruptible feed  of  the  new  and  divine  life.  It  is  not 
unreafonably  magnified  in  the  text,  if,  by  means  of 
it,  the  man  of  God  may  be  made  perfed,  the  wicked 
reclaimed,  and  the  well-difpofed  be  furniflied  to  ev- 
ery  good  work. 

Thirdly — We  learn  from  the  text,  that  "  the 
word  of  God  liveth,  and  abideth  forever."  Some, 
I  am  fenfible,  apply  thefe  terms,  not  to  the  word,  but 
to  God  himfelf.  That  the  fupreme  being  is  from 
everlalHng  to  everlafi:ing,  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  pri- 
mary truths  of  religion  :  but  fi:ill,  I  do  not  find  this 
dodrine  in  the  words  before  us.  They  would  have 
been  arranged  in  a  different  manner.  If  the  apoflile 
had  intended,  in  this  place,  to  predicate  immortality 
of  God. 

That  the  gofpel  "liveth  and  abideth  forever," 
may,  perhaps,  feem  a  ftrange  expreffion  ;  but  this 
language  is  countenanced  by  other  chrifi;ian  writers. 
In  the  revelation,  it  is  termed  the  "  everlafting  gof- 
pel."   In  the  epifllc  to  the  Hebrews,  it  is  faid  to  Ihe ; 

and 


'39<>  ON    REGENERATION.        fSlRM.  XXXIlt 

and  in  the  fecond  to  the  Corinthians,  to  remain  or 
abide,  without  being  abolifhed.  Nor  is  this  all  :  in 
the  very  paffage,  which  St.  Peter  had  in  view,  and 
which  fuggefled  the  expreffion  in  the  text,  we  find 
the  fame  doflrine.  "  The  grafs  withereth,  the  flower 
fadeth  ;  but  the  word  of  our  God  fliall  fland  for- 
ever.'* This  paflTage  you  will  find  in  the  prophecy 
of  Ifaiah.  That  the  word,  which  abideth  forever, 
means  the  perfon,  not  the  gofpel  of  our  Saviour, 
has  been  fuppofed  by  fome  criticks  :  but  the  context 
will  not  admit  the  fupppfition.  For  having  repeated 
the  fentiment  in  the  text,  "  the  word  of  the  Lord 
cndureth  forever,"  he  adds,  "  and  this  is  the  word, 
which  by  the  gofpel  is  preached  unto  you."  Though 
Chrift  be  denominated,  therefore,  the  word  of  God  ; 
and  though  he  is  crowned  with  immortal  glory  and 
happinefs,  ftill  it  is  his  gofpel,  which,  according  to 
the  teftimony  of  St.  Peter,  "  liveth  and  abideth  for- 
ever." It  will  continue  in  force  till  the  fecond  com- 
ing of  its  divine  founder.  It  will  not  be  fuperfeded 
by  any  other  difpenfation  ;  but  wiU  remain  in  force 
till  the  great  and  benevolent  ends  of  it  fliall  be  ac- 
compliflied.  Human  oppolition  will  not  prevail 
againft  it.  Having  the  patronage  of  heaven,  it  will 
triumph  in  future,  as  it  has  triumphed  in  times  pafl:. 
The  violence  of  man  could  not  exterminate  it,  even 
in  its  infancy.  Nor  will  it  be  overthrown  by  any  of 
the  arts,  which  may  hereafter  be  employed  againfl: 
it,  by  the  moft  inveterate  of  its  enemies.  We  are 
aflured  by  its  great  author,  that  it  fl:ands  on  a  rock. 
And  we  may  believe  that  it  will  abide  forever,  be- 
caufe  it  has  refifted  the  mofl;  formidable  oppolition  ; 
and  becaufe  it  has  always  gained  fl;rength  by  mea- 
fures  which  threatened  its  deftru6tion.  The  fenti- 
ment, therefore,  advanced  by  the  apoftle,  may  be 

freely 


SeRM.  XXXIII.]         ON    REGENERATION,  -59! 

freely  admitted.  We  need  not  labour  to  explatn 
away  the  literal  meaning  of  his  words.  The  gofpel 
may,  with  the  utmoft  propriety,  be  faid  to  live  and 
abide  forever,  becaufe  God  will  not,  and  man  can 
not,  fubvert  that  glorious  inftitution. 

I  HAVE  now  conlidered  the  leading  truths  contain- 
ed in  the  text.  It  remains  to  anfwer  fome  objec- 
tions, which  may  be  made,  if  not  to  the  nature  and 
evidence  of  the  new  birth,  yet  to  the  more  immedi- 
ate caufe  of  it,  as  reprefented  in  this  difcourfe.  In 
the  text,  we  are  referred  to  the  word  of  God,  or 
the  gofpel,  as  the  incorruptible  feed,  of  which  we  are 
born  again.  It  cannot  be  denied,  that,  in  fome  other 
places,  we  are  faid  to  be  born  of  God,  born  of  water, 
and  of  the  fpirit.  Thus  the  evangelift  John,  having 
mentioned  the  fons  of  God,  proceeds  thus,  "  who 
were  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flefh, 
nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God."  His  mean- 
ing is,  that  true  Chriftians  became  fuch,  not  merely 
by  any  external  right,  like  that  of  circuracilion  ;  not 
by  natural  defcent,  nor  by  any  influence  or  agency, 
merely  human  ;  but  by  the  divine  power,  operating 
by  the  gofpel.  It  will  be  eafy  to  reconcile  all  thofe 
paffages,  which  feem  to  afcribe  the  new  creation  to 
diflferent  caufes.  When  carefully  examined,  they  all 
fpeak  the  fame  language.  We  are  born  of  God,  be- 
caufe God  does  really  change  our  hearts,  and  rectify 
our  behaviour  :  but  he  employs  the  gofpel  to  ejBFedt 
this  change.  It  is  the  inftrument,  by  which  he  cre- 
ates us  anew,  and  implants  in  us  a  difpolition  favour- 
able to  our  duty.  We  are  alfo  born  of  the  fpirit, 
becaufe  the  gofpel  was  dictated  and  confirmed  by 
the  fpirit  ;  and  becaufe  the  fpirit  is  really  God  him- 
felf,  or  his  influence  exerted  in  the  manner  which  I 
have  defcribed.  There  is,  therefore,  no  contradic- 
tion 


592  ON   aEGENERATION.         [SeRM.  XXXIIL 

tion  in  thefe  feveral  teftimonies  from  the  facred 
volume.  When  St.  Peter  fays,  that  we  are  born 
again  by  the  word  of  God,  which  endureth  forever, 
he  does  not  deny  the  divine  agency,  but  only  refers 
us  to  the  immediate  inftruiiient  of  our  regeneration. 
When  St.  John  fays,  that  we  are  born  of  God,  he 
does  not  mean  to  exclude  the  gofpel  ;  nor  to  inti- 
mate that  we  are  recovered  to  our  duty,  without 
the  intervention  of  the  chriftian  dodrines,  precepts, 
and  motives.  And  when  our  Saviour  afferts,  that, 
to  be  qualified  for  heaven,  we  muft  be  born  of  water 
and  of  the  fpirit,  he  does  not  affert,  that  we  are  born 
by  miracle,  and  that  the  gofpel  has  no  influence  in 
this  moral  renovation.  By  no  means  :  when  per- 
Ibns  are  born  again,  there  are  no  new  revelations 
made  to  them  ;  but  they  are  born  by  the  word  of 
God,  as  it  was  firft  preached,  by  men  divinely  in- 
Ipired  j  and  as  it  is  now  contained  in  the  holy  fcrip- 
tures.  And  let  me  obferve,  this  reprefentation, 
whilft  it  afcribes  the  glory  of  this  change  to  God,  by 
aflerting  his  agency,  vindicates  the  efficacy  of  the 
gofpel  j  and  fhows,  that  his  moral,  like  his  natural 
government,  is  exercifed  conformably  to  ftated  laws. 
Persuaded,  then,  that  if  we  are  ever  made  wife 
and  good,  it  will  be  by  means  of  the  word  of  truth, 
let  us  inquire,  whether  thefe  effeds  have  been  ac- 
tually produced.  The  queftion  is,  not  what  fervours 
we  may  have  experienced,  what  raptures  we  have 
felt,  or  at  what  particular  moment  we  imagine  that 
our  converlion  took  place  ;  but  what  has  been  our 
prevailing  temper,  what  the  general  tenour  of  our 
actions.  Has  the  gofpel  cured  us  of  an  inordinate 
love  of  the  world  ?  Has  it  cured  us  of  envy,  malice, 
pride,  a  difpolition  to  condemn,  or  injure  thofe,  who 
differ  in  opinion  from  us  ?  Has  it  cured  us  of  fenfual 

paflions. 


SeRM.  XXXIII.]         ON    REGENERATION.  3^3 

paffions,  of  diflionefty,  inlincerity,  and  every  fraudu- 
lent practice  ?  Has  it  rendered  us  upright  in  our 
dealings,  circumfped  in  our  converfation,  pious  in 
refpecl  to  God,  and  benevolent  to  men  ?  Has  it  made 
us  Chriftians,  according  to  the  character  drawn  in 
the  facred  writings,  and  according  to  the  exhibition 
of  that  chara6ter  in  the  firft  preachers  and  believers 
of  the  gofpel  ?  If  the  gofpel,  under  the  direction,  and 
accompanied  with  the  bleffing  of  God,  has  produced 
a  thorough  reformation,  both  as  to  principle  and 
pradice,  we  are  born  again ;  and,  by  confequence, 
may  exped  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  The 
change  itfelf,  and  not  the  manner  of  it,  whether  mo- 
mentary or  gradual,  is  all  which  concerns  us.  If  we 
have  the  pure,  the  amiable,  and  the  benevolent  tem- 
per of  the  gofpel ;  if  our  habits  and  adions  conform 
to  that  divine  inftitution,  we  muft  be  happy  in  the 
approaching  ftate. 

Favoured  with  the  word  of  the  Lord,  let  it  be 
your  concern  to  make  it  fubfervient  to  your  higheft 
improvement  and  future  happinefs.  To  this  end, 
let  it  be  confulted,  and  applied  ;  and  let  it  be  ftudied 
under  this  convidion,  that  it  "  is  perfect,  converting 
the  foul."  Let  it  be  your  earneft  petition  to  the 
father  of  lights,  that  the  counfels  of  his  word  may 
illuminate  your  minds,  and  govern  your  whole  lives. 
The  author  of  ail  good  will  not  rejed  your  petition. 
He  will  keep  you  from  falling ;  and,  like  his  holy 
word,  you  will  live  and  abide  forever. 


Sermon 

Bbb 


394  THE    DESIRE  [SeRM.  XXXIV, 

Sermon  xxxiv. 

On  the  Defire  of  Life. 

2  Kings,  xx.  3. 
"  and  hezekiah  wept  sore." 

THAT  many  good  Chriftians  fhould  fufFer  fo 
much  from  the  fear  of  death,  and  at  laft  quit 
the  world  with  fuch  irrefolution,  has  been  matter  of 
great  furprife  to  all,  who  have  thought  upon  it. — 
Who  would  not  have  fuppofed,  that  men  of  this 
character  would  meet  the  king  of  terrors  without 
difmay  ?  Having  long  familiarized  themfelves  to  the 
thought  of  dying,  were  it  not  natural  to  conclude, 
they  would,  in  their  laft  moments,  fubfcribe  to  the 
excellency  of  religion,  by  the  glorious  and  triumph- 
ant hopes  of  life  and  immortality  ? 

But  obfervation  convinces  us,  this  Is  very  far 
from  being  actually  the  cafe.  We  have  only  to  look 
into  the  world,  and  we  fhall  fee  fome  of  the  beft 
characters,  "  through  fear  of  death,  fubjed  to  bond- 
age.'* And  we  may  behold  them  go  off  the  ftage 
with  a  timid  reluctance,  which  would  refled  difhon- 
our  even  upon  the  guiltieft  malefactor. 

Whether  it  is  the  prejudice  of  education,  which 
operates  fo  forcibly  in  our  dying  moments  ;  whether 
we  are  terrified  with  the  thought  of  a  winding  fheet 
and  a  coffin,  mourning  friends,  and  the  funeral  cy- 
prefs  *,  whether  it  is  the  anticipation  of  that  mighty 
ihock,  which  fliall  diffolve  the  long  eftablifhed  inti- 
macy between  foul  and  body  5    or  whether  it  is  an 

approaching 


Serm.  XXXIV.]  OF  LIFE.  595 

approaching  introduction  to  a  new  and  undifcovered 
country,  from  whence  no  traveller  returns ;  I  fay, 
whether  it  be  one,  or  all  thefe  confiderations  united, 
that  fills  us  with  fuch  gloomy  apprehenfions,  I  leave 
to  the  decifion  of  a  future  inquiry.  But  fure  I  am 
of  the  fad  itfelf ;  and  equally  certain,  that  fuch  want 
of  fortitude,  in  a  good  man,  is  a  poor  encomium 
■upon  the  religion  he  profefTes.  It  carries  with  it  a 
fufpicious  appearance.  It  would  lead  an  indifferent 
perfon  to  imagine,  that  the  friendfliip  of  religion  was 
like  the  friendfliip  of  the  world  :  that  fhe  was  full 
of  kind  offers,  when  we  wanted  nothing  of  her  ;  but 
would  be  fure  to  defert  us,  when  we  flood  in  mofl 
need  of  her  affiflance. 

Such  a  fufpicion,  unjuft  as  it  is,  was  fairly  the  lan- 
guage of  the  character  before  us.  Hezekiah  had 
long  fwayed  the  Jewifh  fceptre  with  honour  and  re- 
putation. He  had  feen  his  enemies  fall  before  him  ; 
and  from  the  conduct  of  divine  providence  toward 
him  and  his  kingdom,  had  the  utmofl  reafon  to 
think,  he  was  no  fmall  favourite  with  the  Lord  his 
God.  After  a  while,  however,  "  Hezekiah  was  fick 
unto  death.  And  the  prophet  Ifaiah,  fon  of  Amos, 
came  to  him,  and  faid  unto  him,  thus  faith  the  Lord, 
fet  thine  houfe  in  order,  for  thou  Ihalt  die,  and  not 
live.  Then  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  pray- 
ed unto  the  Lord,  faying,  I  befeech  thee,  O  Lord, 
rem'ember  now  how  I  have  walked  before  thee  in 
truth,  and  with  a  perfect  heart,  and  have  done  that 
which  is  good  in  thy  fight.     And  Hezekiah  iveptforeJ" 

Never  was  the  fear  of  death  painted  in  flronger 
colours,  than  in  the  language  and  behaviour  of  this 
monarch.  Notwithflanding  the  approbation  of  a 
good  confcience,  notwithftanding  the  comfortable 
hope  he  might  well  entertain  of  a  happy  exiftence  in 

the 


39^  THE   DESIRE  [SerM.  XXXIV, 

the  heavenly  world,  ftill  he  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  quitting  the  prefent.  To  leave  his  crown, 
his  kingdom,  and  all  the  regal  honours  behind,  and 
to  launch  forth  into  an  unknown,  untried  eternity, 
he  could  not  refled  upon  it  without  diftraclion  !  Ac- 
cordingly, as  became  fo  good  a  man,  he  firft  betook 
himfelf  to  prayer.  He  fpread  his  cafe  before  him, 
who  is  equally  able  to  "  kill  and  to  make  alive,  to 
wound,  and  to  heal.**  He  recounted  fome  of  thofe 
virtues,  upon  which  he  could  bell  ground  a  plea  for 
mercy.  He  did  not  forget  his  integrity,  his  invio- 
lable regard  to  truth,  and  the  prevailing  innocence 
of  his  walk  and  converfation.  And  in  proof  of  the 
ardour  and  anguifh  of  his  foul,  he  concluded  all  his 
petitions  with  a  flood  of  tears. 

Strange  behaviour  this,  in  fuch  an  amiable  char- 
after,  as  that  of  Hezekiah.  Had  he  been  fome  pro- 
fligate wretch,  who  had  nothing  to  hope,  but  every 
thing  to  fear  from  his  Lord  and  judge,  no  wonder 
the  profped  of  death  fliould  fill  him  with  fuch  ap- 
prehenfions.  Tribulation  and  anguifli  belong  to  per- 
fpns  of  this  guilty  clafs.  But  when  we  take  a  view 
of  the  life  and  actions  of  Hezekiah  ;  when  we  con- 
iider  his  uprightnefs,  and  the  general  tenour  of  his 
moral  conduct,  we  cannot  but  repeat  our  furprize, 
that  he  fliould  ever  betray  fo  great  a  weaknefs. — 
Who  would  not  have  fuppofed  he  would  blefs  the 
prophet  for  his  joyful  predidion  ?  And  rather  than 
turn  away  his  face  and  weep,  that  he  would  greet 
him  kindly,  as  the  welcome  meflenger  of  the  happiefl: 
tidings  !  What,  Hezekiah,  is  the  prefent  world  a 
place  of  fuch  tranquillity  and  repofe  ?  Are  its  plea- 
fures  fo  fuperior  to  the  delights  of  heaven,  that  you 
would  not  wifli  to  make  an  exchange  ?  Is  your  feli- 
city fo  perfed,  that  you  have  nothing  left  to  wifli  or 

delire  f 


S£RM.  XXXIV.]  or  LIFE.  397 

defire  ?  Is  the  Jewifh  crown  rather  to  be  chofen  than 
a  crown  of  glory  ?  And  is  a  temporal  kingdom  pre- 
ferable to  a  kingdom  that  cannot  be  moved  ?  Can 
infinite  power,  under  the  conduct  of  unerring  wif- 
dom  and  goodnefs,  devife  no  method  to  enhance 
your  felicity  ?  If  not,  you  may  well  weep  at  the 
thought  of  dying.  Under  the  influence  of  fuch  per- 
fuafions,  I  know  not  who  could  refrain  from  tears. 

But  if  you  have  fo  much  to  plead  on  the  fcore  of 
merit  ;  if,  as  you  have  already  alTerted,  it  has  been 
the  conftant  ftudy  of  your  life,  to  do  that  which  is 
well  pleaiing  in  the  fight  of  God,  and  can  hence 
promife  yourfelf  a  crown  of  glory  in  the  coming 
world,  your  fears  are  not  more  diftrefling,  than  they 
are  groundlefs  and  abfurd.  For  Ihame,  man ;  wel- 
come the  moment  that  Ihall  deliver  you  from  this 
body  of  death.  Thank  God,  the  time  is  now  at 
hand,  when  you  will  reft  from  all  your  labours,  in 
fure  and  certain  hope  that  your  works  will  follow 
you.  For  you  cannot  be  ignorant,  that  although 
this  "  earthly  houfe  of  your  tabernacle  be  diflblved, 
you  will  have  a  building  of  God,  a  houfe  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens ! " 

But,  perhaps,  you  may  ftill  have  no  occafion  for 
this  advice,  no  call  for  the  exercife  of  your  fortitude. 
Moved,  it  may  be,  by  your  ftrong  crying  and  tears, 
the  fupreme  difpofer  of  all  things  will  reverfe  your 
doom.  The  prophet  is  haftening  back ;  who  knows 
but  he  may  at  once  relieve  you  from  all  your  anxi- 
ety. It  is  furely  fo  ;  for,  as  we  read  in  the  follow- 
ing verfes,  "  it  came  to  pafs,  before  Ifaiah  was  gone 
out  of  the  middle  court,  that  the  word  of  the  Lord 
came  to  him,  faying.  Turn  again,  and  tell  Hezekiah, 
the  captain  of  my  people,  thus  faith  the  Lord,  the 
God  of  David  thy  father,  I  have  heard  thy  prayer, 

I  have 


398  THE  DESIRE  [Serm.  XXXIV. 

I  have  feen  thy  tears  ;  behold,  I  will  heal  thee  ;  on 
the  third  day,  thou  fhalt  go  up  to  the  houfe  of  the 
Lord.     And  I  will  add  unto  thy  days  ffteen  years." 

Happy  monarch  !  we  may  ealily  conceive  of  thy 
feelings  upon  this  joyful  occafion.  We  may  almoft 
fee  thee  bellowing  thy  carefTes  upon  the  prophet. 
How  is  thy  mourning  converted  into  joy,  and  into 
the  garment  of  praife  thy  heavinefs  !  How  does  thy 
countenance  brighten  at  the  recoUedion  of  thy  nar- 
row efcape  !  And  with  what  rapture  does  thy  bofom 
fwell  at  the  thought  of  fifteen  long  years  in  this  de- 
lightfome  world  !  It  muft  furely,  Hezekiah,  be  too 
good  news  to  be  true. 

But  leaving  the  particular  lituation  of  the  Jewifh 
monarch,  let  us  employ  our  prefent  time,  by  inquir- 
ing, firft,  into  tlie  natural  reafons,  for  that  weaknefs, 
which  is  fo  ftrongly  reprefented  in  the  text.  And 
then. 

Secondly,  point  out  the  beft  arguments  to  fortify 
us  againft  it. 

As  the  critical  circumllances  of  Hezekiah  may 
fome  time  or  other  be  our  own,  I  truft  neither  you, 
my  hearers,  nor  I,  fhall  think  ourfelves  uninterefted 
in  the  inquiry.  Yet  a  little  while,  and  we  fhall  be 
no  more.  The  dread  fummons  will  ere  long  reach 
our  ears,  "  thus  faith  the  Lord^  fet  your  houfe  in  order  ; 
for  ye  fhall  die,  and  not  live"  Happy  for  us,  in  that 
trying  moment,  if  we  can  poflefs  our  fouls  in  peace. 
Happy,  if  we  can  have  fuch  a  command  over  our 
fears,  as  to  adopt  the  triumphant  language  of  the 
apoftle  :  "  We  are  now  ready  to  be  offered,  and  the 
time  of  our  departure  is  at  hand  ;  we  have  fought 
a  good  fight,  we  have  finifhed  our  courfe,  we  have 
kept  the  faith  ;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  us,  a 
crown  of  righteoufnefs,  which  the  Lord  the  righ- 
teous 


Serm.  XXXIV.]  ©F  LiFS.  39^ 

teous  judge  will  beflow  at  that  day."  How  diffe- 
rent this  from  the  weak  and  timid  behaviour  of 
Hezekiah  ?  To  yield  with  fuch  divine  compofure, 
and  to  fubmit  with  fuch  heroic  fortitude,  it  is  con- 
quering death,  rather  than  falling  before  him.  We 
difappoint  him  of  all  his  triumphs,  when  we  refign 
our  breath  without  difmay. 

That  fuch  may  be  our  refolution  at  that  day, 
when  we  ftiall  moft  need  it,  we  fliall  purfue  the  in- 
quiry according  to  the  plan  propofed.  And,  iirft — 
How  comes  it  to  pafs,  that  the  profped  of  a  fpeedy 
diffolution  ftrikes  us  with  fuch  peculiar  terror  ? — 
Upon  fuppolition,  death  put  a  final  period  to  our  ex- 
iftence,  we  could  not  wonder  if  it  had  this  effed:. 
To  die,  to  Jleep,  without  the  poflibility  of  ever  awak- 
ing from  our  iron  flumbers  ;  the  thought  were  fuf- 
ficient  to  deprive  us  of  our  fenfes.  Could  we  per- 
fuade  ourfelves,  that  when  death  had  once  made  us 
his  prifoners,  we  fhould  never  after  regain  our  lib- 
erty, we  fliould  have  too  much  reafon,  with  the 
Jewifli  prince,  to  turn  away^  and  weep  fore  !  And  fif- 
teen years,  upon  that  fuppofition,  were  a  kind  pref- 
ent,  by  no  means  to  be  overlooked. 

But  when  we  confider  what  Jefus  Chrifl:  hath 
done  for  a  ruined  world,  how  he  hath  "  deflroyed 
him  who  had  the  power  of  death  ;"  how  he  hath 
plucked  the  fting  from  that  mercilefs  tyrant,  and 
foiled  the  grave  of  his  vi(5lory  ;  when  we  confider 
how  he  hath  "  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light,"  and  given  us  a  pledge  and  earnefl;  of  our  fu- 
ture refurreclion  ;  I  fay,  when  we  take  all  thefe 
truths  into  confideration,  whence  that  timid  reluc- 
tance at  leaving  the  world  ?  Can  an  enemy  bound, 
fettered,  and  almofl:  entirely  difarmed,  be  itill  an 
cbjed  of  fuch  unmanly  fear  ? 

*        In 


40O  THE   DESIRE  [SeRM.  XXXIV. 

In  anfwer  to  which,  I  would  obferve,  the  paffion 
abovementioned  is,  in  fome  conliderable  degree,  ef- 
fentially  neceflary  to  the  prefent  ftate.  Beings,  cir- 
cumftanced  as  we  are,  could  not  otherwife  fill  the 
place  affigned  them.  For  thefe  reafons,  God  hath 
interwoven  a  principle  of  fear  with  our  very  confti- 
tution,  well  knowing,  that  without  it,  the  great  end 
and  defign  of  our  creation  would  be  defeated. 

I.  For,  in  the  firft  place,  did  we  not  regard 
death  with  fome  degree  of  terror,  we  fliould  take 
no  pains  to  provide  againft  thofe  accidents,  to  which 
we  arc  hourly  expofed.  We  Ihould  fly  in  the  face 
of  danger ;  and,  many  times,  we  fliould  provoke  our 
fate.  The  faUing  bridge,  the  tottering  tower,  we 
fliould  pafs  with  a  fl:upid  infenfibility.  And  befet,  as 
we  are,  with  dangers  and  evil  of  every  kind,  fcarce 
one  in  a  thoufand  would  live  out  half  his  days. 

Nor  would  the  more  indolent  part  of  mankind 
exert  themfelves  to  prolong  life  at  the  expenfe  of  fo 
much  labour  and  toil,  as  are  now  requifite,  in  order 
to  that  end.  They  would  never  rife  early,  and  fit 
up  late  ;  they  would  never  folicit  the  earth  for  a 
fcanty  fubfiftence  ;  nor  would  they  vex  themfelves 
with  the  various  cares  and  concerns  of  life.  If  they 
could  not  live  without  the  continued  fweat  of  the 
brow,  they  would  even  let  nature  take  its  courfe, 
and  recal  a  gift  they  did  not  think  worth  their  ac- 
ceptance. 

But  now,  all  this  mifchief  is  happily  prevented. 
By  implanting,  within  us,  a  proper  meafure  of  this 
neceflary  fear,  God  hath  amply  provided  for  our  fe- 
curity.  What  if  the  avenues  to  death  are  many  ; 
caution  will  not  fail,  if  poflible,  to  flop  them.  Our 
fears  will  ever  outfl:rip  our  danger.  And  we  ftiall 
not  think  the  labour  great,  nor  the  toil  infupport- 

able. 


SeRM.  XXXIV.]  OF    LIFE.  401 

able,  which  rewards  us  with  length  of  days,  and  the 
comforts,  conveniences,  or  elegances  of  life. 

2.      But,  fecondly,  without  a  principle  of  fear, 
meii  would  not  only  perceive  the  advances  of  death 
with  a  cold  indifference ;  but  they  would  even  haften 
them  on  by  violent  meafures.      Upon  every  Httle 
difffuft  with  the  world,  they  would  be  for  putting 
themfelves  out  of  it.     If  their  domeftic  matters  took 
an  unfavourable  turn  ;  if,  in  their  ambitious  views, 
they  were  difappointed,  they  would  not  fuffer  long 
under  the   mortification.      The  firft  precipice  they 
could  find,  or  the  firft  inftrument  of  death  they  could 
meet,  would  put  an  inftant  period  to  their  forrows. 
They  would  never  fubmit  to  the  ftraits  of  poverty  j 
they  would  never  languiflx  on  the  bed  of  ficknefs  ; 
wearifome  nights,  and  tormenting  days,  they  would 
never  endure.     The  flave  would  foon  reft  from  his 
toil,  and  the  prifoner  fet  himfelf  free.     And,  if  the 
world  did  not  move  on  juft  as  we  would  have  it,  we 
fliould  make  no  fcruple  of  bidding  it  adieu. 

Besides  all  this,  there  is  no  fpecies  of  violence, 
but  would  univerfally  take  place.  The  corrupt  paf- 
fions  of  mankind  would  rage  without  control.  Sui- 
cide and  murder  would  be  no  fingularity.  But  the 
whole  world  would  be  foon  turned  into  an  Acelda- 
ma, a  field  of  blood.  Such  would  be  the  prefent 
cffeas,  if  the  influence  of  this  principle  was  entirely 

taken  off.  .^ 

Of  the  truth  of  the  above,  we  may  readny  con- 
vince ourfelves,  by  turning  to  matter  of  facT:.  Not- 
withftanding  the  predominancy  of  this  fear,  yet  we 
find  fome  are  hardy  enough  to  perlfli  by  their  own 
hands.  Miftaken  honour,  difappointed  ambition, 
cowardice,  undeferved  reproach,  revenge  or  grief, 
may  drive  them  to  fuch  an  unnatural  deed.  And 
Ccc  ^^ 


402  THE    DESIRE  [SeRM.  XXXIV. 

ill  like  manner,  wrath  or  malice  may  prevail  with 
them,  to  exercife  the  fame  violence  upon  the  perfon 
of  another. 

But  if,  under  all  our  prefent  timidity,  we  can  find 
a  difpoiition  to  precipitate  our  own,  or  the  doom  of 
a  fellow-creature  ;  if  our  natural  apprehenlions  of 
death  are  not  fuiiicient  to  engage  us  to  wait  "  all 
the  days  of  our  appointed  time,"  how  much  oftener 
fliould  we  ad  fuch  a  rafli  and  inconfiderate  part, 
were  thofe  apprehenfions  lefs  formidable  ?  And  if 
our  prefent  fears  of  an  untimely  end  are  not  an  ef- 
fectual fecurity  againft  the  hand  of  violence,  what 
havock,  what  deftruclion  would  enfue,  had  not  thofe 
fears  been  implanted  in  us  ?  From  this  view,  it  is 
evident,  the  principle  under  confideration  was  wifely 
ordained.  And  though  Hezekiah  had  no  reafon  to 
weep  fore,  yet,  it  is  certain,  a  degree  of  terror  was 
not  incompatible  with  his  charader  or  profeflion. 

3.  But  further — That  fear  of  death,  which  en- 
ters fo  effcntially  into  our  conflitution,  was  intended 
to  lead  our  thoughts  toward  a  future  ftate,  and  en- 
gage us  to  prepare  for  it.  We  all  know,  how  very 
rarely  we  Ihould  think  on  the  place  of  our  deftina- 
tion,  were  it  not  for  the  dark  valley,  which  conducts 
to  it.  Could  we  be  fure,  that  we  fhould  be  finally 
tranfported  to  another  world,  as  was  the  prophet  of 
old,  we  fhould  give  ourfelves  no  further  concern 
about  the  matter.  We  lliould  be  too  apt  to  fay, 
*'  foul,  take  thine  eafe,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.'* 
Let  nothing  difturb  thy  mirth,  let  nothing  interrupt 
thy  tranquillity. 

But  now,  the  cafe  is  widely  different.  The  image 
of  death  being  peculiarly  difagreeable,  it  will  be  al- 
ways prefenting  itfelf  to  the  mind.  It  will  intrude 
upon  our  gayeft  moments,  and  throw  a  gloom  over 

all 


Serm.  XXXIV.]  oi'  LIFE.  403 

all  the  higheft  delights  of  life.  In  the  midft  of  feil- 
fual  gratifications,  it  will  ileal  upon  us.  It  will  rife 
with  us  in  the  morning  ;  nor  will  it  wholly  defert 
us  at  night.  And,  what  is  very  extraordinary,  the 
more  ftudious  we  are  to  banifti  it  from  onr  thoughts, 
the  more  obftinately  will  it  return  into  the  mmd. 

And  this  is  abfolutely  neceffary  for  a  fet  of  bemgs 
defigned,  as  wc  are,  for  another  and  a  better  ftate. 
For  though  death  be  the  principal  objed  of  our  ter- 
ror yet  it  does  not  confine  our  meditations  to  itlelf. 
It  leads  to  a  train  of  the  moft  ufeful  thoughts.     It 
hurries  us    through  all  the  different  fcenes,  which 
commence  upon  our  leaving  the  world.     And  whe- 
ther we  will  or  not,  we  find  ourfelves,  by  an  ealy 
tranfition  from  the  views  of  death,  fummoned  before 
the  bar  of  our  Redeemer,  and  condemned  or  ac- 
quitted, according  to  our  works.     And,  in  this  re- 
fpecT:,  it  cannot  be  denied,  the  fear  under  confider- 
ation  is  of  vaft  importance  ;    fince  it  continually  re- 
minds us  of  a  life  to  come,  calls  in  the  motions  of  a 
vain,  fenfual,  and  earthly  heart,  begets  within  us  a 
becoming  ferioufnefs,  difpofes  us  to  liften  to  the  voice 
of  religion,  and  prepare  for  that  happier  world,  the 
profpecT:  of  which  is  unfolded  to  us  in  the  gofpel. 
Such  is  the  natural  tendency  of  that  paffion,  which 
wrought  fo  powerfully  in  Hezekiah,  and  which  pre- 
vails, in  a  greater  or  lefs  degree,  in  us  all :    and, 
when  reftrained  within  due  bounds,  we  plainly  per- 
ceive,  it  is  both  innocent  and  ufefuh 

Thus  we  have  confidered  the  fear  of  death,  as 
implanted  in  us  by  the  wife  author  of  our  frame  ; 
and  have  fhewn  how  it  may  be  improved  to  the  pur- 
pofes  of  religion,  and  made  fubfervient  to  our  future 
happinefs.  But  there  are  other  accidental  caufes, 
which  have  raifed  our  terrors  to  an  undue  height. 

Such, 


404  THE   DESIRE  [SerM.  XXXIV. 

Such,  for  inftance,  as  the  prejudices  of  childhood 
and  youth,  which  grow  up  with  us,  as  we  advance 
In  life,  and  cannot  be  wholly  correded  by  the  wif- 
dom  and  experience  of  riper  age.  The  awful  appa- 
ratus of  death  makes  a  deep  impreffion  on  the  infant 
mind.  The  Ihroud,  the  coffin,  the  funeral  bell,  are 
objedis  peculiarly  fliocking  to  that  period  of  life. 
Hence  the  child  feldom  hears  or  thinks  of  its  depart* 
lire,  without  recoUeding  all  the  melancholy  circum- 
ftances,  which  may  attend  it.  And  the  fame  princi- 
ple has  its  influence  over  men,  who  are  only  children 
of  a  larger  growth.  From  their  idea  of  death,  they 
cannot  feparate  the  articles  above  recited.  They 
view  themfelves  as  already  borne  in  folemn  ftate  to 
the  place  appointed  for  all  the  living.  They  fright 
themfelves  with  the  narrow  confines  of  the  grave. 
They  think  of  their  odious  appearance,  when  the 
king  of  terrors  fhall  have  defaced  them  with  his 
horrid  fcroll ;  when  the  worms  ftiall  feed  fweetly  on 
them,  and  their  whole  frame  return  to  its  native  duft. 
Thefe,  and  a  thoufand  other  dreadful  images,  will  of- 
ten haunt  the  good  man  upon  his  death-bed.  And, 
without  all  controverfy,  they  ruflied  in  upon  the 
mind  of  Hezekiah,  and  caufed  that  worthy  prince  to 
njoeep  fore. 

But  this  is  not  all  ;  the  tender  connexions  we 
leave  behind,  will  add  new  horrors  to  our  laft  change. 
Who  can  think  of  bidding  a  final  adieu  to  the  fond 
parent,  the  amiable  confort,  the  dutiful  child,  with-? 
out  emotions  of  the  moft  diftrefilng  kind  ?  If  the 
abfence  of  a  few  days,  from  the  embraces  of  thofe 
we  love,  is  productive  of  fuch  uneafinefs,  why  may 
Ijot  "  rivers  of  water  run  down  our  cheeks,''  when 
we  confider,  that  the  "  eyes  which  now  fee  them^ 
n^uft  fee  them  no  more"  I   Whe^i  we  call  to  mind, 

that 


Serm.  XXXIV.]  or  life.  405 

that  we  can  never,  never  return  to  them,  can  never 
hear  of  their  welfare,  can  know  nothing  more  of 
them,  than  if  we  had  never  been  !  And  will  not 
heaven  forgive  the  tear,  that  is  fhed  on  fuch  an  occa- 
fion  ?  Will  not  a  merciful  Redeemer  pardon  the  man, 
who  reluds  at  leaving  a  helplefs  family  to  the  mercy 
of  the  world  ?  Who  can  think  of  expoling  his  ten- 
der babes  to  the  fnares  and  temptations  of  this  evil 
ftate,  without  a  hand  to  fupply  their  wants,  or  a 
friend  to  direct  their  ways  ?  Suppoling  a  perfon  in 
this,  or  a  fimilar  fituation,  can  we  wonder,  if  the 
profped  of  death  was  very  alarming,  and  he,  like 
Hezekiah  in  the  text,  fliould  weep  fore  ? 

But  another  caufe,  which  makes  us  fo  fearfully 
apprehenfive  of  dying,  is  the  pain,  which,  we  ima* 
gine,  accompanies  that  great  event.  If  the  bare  lofs 
of  a  limb  will  throw  us  into  fuch  agonies,  we  con- 
clude, the  lofs  of  life  muft  be  effefled  by  much  great- 
er. And  this  conceit  is  ftrengthened  by  the  appear- 
ance of  many  perfons  in  their  laft  moments.  When 
we  fee  them  all  over  convulfed  and  diftorted  ;  when 
we  hear  their  dying  groans,  behold  their  eyes  roll- 
ing, and  obferve  their  expiring  gafp,  we  cannot  per- 
fuade  ourfelves,  but  their  feelings  comport  with 
their  looks. 

But  this  is  undoubtedly  a  grofs  miftake.  Many, 
are  the  pains  we  endure  in  life,  which  are  infinitely 
more  diftreffing,  than  thofe  which  attend  our  de- 
parture. After  long  ficknefs,  the  body  lofes  its  fen- 
fibility.  And  when  this  is  the  cafe,  every  new 
wound,  that  is  opened  in  us,  nature  kindly  covers 
with  a  total  difregard.  We  cannot  fuffer  pain  be- 
yond a  certain  degree.  Hence  the  moil  dreadful 
maladies,  after  a  while,  fpend  their  united  rage  upon 
us  in  vain.    Let  not  any,  therefore,  tremble  at  death 

merely 


40^  THE   DESIRE  [SeRM.  XXXIV. 

merely  on  account  of  the  agony  of  dying,  fmce  it  is 
more  than  probable  they  have  felt  as  great,  or  per- 
haps greater,  many  times  in  their  paft  lives. 

But  to  proceed — We  enter  the  valley  of  death 
with  a  timid  reludance,  becaufe  we  know  not  the 
country  to  which  it  leads.  With  fuch  faculties  as 
we  poflefs,  it  is  impoffible  we  fliould  have  any  idea 
of  the  inviiible  world.  We  cannot  difcern  it  through 
the  veil  of  fiefh,  and  no  traveller  has  ever  yet  re- 
turned to  bring  us  intelligence.  And  though  the 
gofpel  has  thrown  fome  light  upon  the  fubjed  ;  yet, 
whenever  it  employs  our  thoughts,  we  find  ourfelves 
loft  in  the  contemplation.  This,  therefore,  is  an- 
other circumftance,  which  renders  death  an  objeft 
of  terror.  Could  we  form  any  tolerable  conception 
of  the  enfuing  ftate,  our  fears  would  be  lefs  excited. 
But  when  we  confider,  that  we  leave  the  prefent,  for 
an  undifcovered  country  ;  our  familiar  friends,  for 
a  new  acquaintance  ;  when  we  call  to  mind  the  dif- 
ferent fcenes  and  changes  that  will  take  place,  the 
new  objeds,  which  will  dart  before  us ;  in  fine,  when 
we  recollect,  that  we  are  about  to  enter  into  a  mode 
of  being,  which  "  eye  hath  not  feen,  nor  ear  heard," 
we  cannot  preferve  our  ufual  ferenity.  The  blood 
will  retire  to  the  heart  upon  fuch  refle6lion,  in  fpite 
of  all  our  endeavours  to  prevent  it. 

Lastly — We  Ihudder  at  the  thought  of  dying,  be- 
caufe we  are  well  aflured,  we  fhall  next  appear  at  the 
bar  of  our  Redeemer.  After  death  comes  the  judg- 
ment. No  fooner  fhall  we  clofe  our  eyes  upon  this 
world,  than  we  ftiall  open  them  upon  another.  Is  it, 
then,  matter  of  furprife,  that  any  perfon  Ihould  trem- 
ble at  an  event,  which  would  introduce  him  to  "  Jefus 
the  mediator,  and  God  the  judge  of  all  ? "  Who  that 
kas  read  the  fcripture  reprefentation  of  the  laft  day, 

that 


SeRM.  XXXIV.]  ©F    LIFE.  ^07 

that  has  feen  the  heavens  rolled  back  as  a  fcroll,  that 
has  heard  the  trumpet  found,  that  has  beheld  the 
fon  of  man  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  all  the 
dead,  both  fmall  and  great,  affembled  around  ;  who 
that  has  any  faith  in  the  gofpel  revelation,  could  re- 
lign  himfelf  to  death,  in  this  view  of  it,  with  per- 
fed  compofure  ?  The  luftre  of  fuch  a  fcene  overbears 
us,  even  in  the  meridian  of  health.  What  wonder, 
then,  if,  exhaufted  with  pain  and  ficknefs,  the  mind 
fhould  be  almoft  ready  to  fink  under  it  ?  If,  at  its 
greateft  diftance,  it  ftrikes  us  with  fuch  terror,  well 
may  we  ftart  back,  when  we  perceive  it  juft  at  hand ! 

Having  now  finifhed  our  obfervations  upon  the 
nature,  caufe,  and  meafure  of  this  weaknefs,  we  fliall 
conclude  the  difcourfe  with  fome  diredions,  as  the 
beft  remedy  againft  it.  And  from  what  has  been 
faid,  you  will  not  difpute  the  necellity  of  fear,  in 
fome  proper  degree.  That  it  is  abfolutely  effential 
to  beings,  circumftanced  as  we  are,  is  too  plain  to 
need  further  fupport.  All,  therefore,  I  fhall  attempt, 
at  prefent,  will  be  to  fortify  you  againft  that  unman- 
ly fear,  which  wrought  fo  powerfully  in  Hezekiah, 
and  at  length  betrayed  him  into  the  weaknefs  in  the 
text. 

I.  And  in  order  to  this,  let  us,  firft,  make  the 
thought  of  dying  familiar  to  our  minds.  The  moil 
frightful  objeds  lofe  their  native  horrors,  when  we 
have  long  accuftomed  ourfelves  to  dwell  upon  them. 
Come  when  he  would,  we  Ihould  then  receive  that 
grim  tyrant  with  lefs  furprize.  The  condud:  of 
Hezekiah  was  probably  owing  to  an  extreme  tardi- 
nefs  in  this  refped.  Had  he  permitted  the  contem- 
plation of  his  laft  change  to  employ  a  fuitable  por- 
tion of  his  time  and  thoughts,  he  would  not  have 
prayed  fo  ardently,  nor  have  wept  fo  fore. 

SfiCONDtT 


46S  THE   DESIRE  [SeRM.  XXXIV. 

2.  Secondly — Let  it  alfo  be  our  great  concern 
to  live  in  continual  preparation  for  the  hour  of  death. 
If  we  have  no  reafon  to  hope  that  our  iniquities  are 
forgiven,  or  our  fins  covered,  we  may  very  juftly  ftand 
aghaft  at  the  profped  of  a  fpeedy  difiblution.  But, 
when  we  can  lay  our  hands  upon  our  breaft,  and 
lay,  "  we  have  fought  a  good  fight,  we  have  finifhed 
our  courfe,  we  have  completed  the  whole  work,  our 
maker  gave  us  to  do ;"  when  we  can  produce  the 
teflimony  of  a  good  confcience,  that  "  in  fimplicity 
and  godly  fincerity,  we  have  had  our  converfation  in 
the  world,"  there  is  little  ground  for  terror  or  dif- 
quiet.  When  the  general  tenour  of  our  lives  has 
been  conformable  to  the  gofpel,  it  argues  folly,  in 
the  extreme,  to  yield  ourfelves  up  to  the  dominion 
of  a  Havifh  fear.  As  we  have  the  highefl  reafon,  fo 
fiiould  we  rejoice  in  our  dying  moments,  when  we 
can  challenge  the  character  above,  as  properly  de- 
fcriptive  of  ourfelves.  And,  though  there  may  be 
Ibme  inflances  to  the  contrary,  yet  this  comfort  will 
be  the  portion  of  the  greater  part  of  thofe,  who  have 
"  walked  in  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of 
the  Lord  blamelefs.'*  Though  a  Hezekiah  may 
*'  weep  fore,'*  and  difcover  all  that  terror,  which  be- 
longs only  to  the  guiltiefl  perfons,  yet  there  are  ma- 
ny others,  who  enter  the  valley  of  death  with  that 
manly  refolution,  which  a  confcious  integrity  fhould 
never  fail  to  infpire. 

3.  But,  thirdly,  as  an  additional  prefervative 
againfl  the  fear  of  death,  we  fliould  endeavour  to  get 
the  better  of  thofe  prejudices,  which  enter  the  mind 
in  early  life.  Shame  it  is  to  any  man,  who  has  ar- 
rived at  the  full  exercife  of  his  powers,  to  fuffer  any 
uneafinefs  from  this  quarter.  What  though  his  life- 
lefs  corps  be  wrapped  in  the  livery  of  the  grave  ; 

what 


SeRM.  XXXIV.]  OF   LIFI.  ^o^ 

what  though  he  be  confined  within  the  narrow  di- 
inenfions  of  a  tonnb ;  what  though  he  "  fay  unto 
corruption,  thou  art  my  father  ;"  ftill  none  of  thefe 
things  need  greatly  move  him.  If  he  will  be  in- 
confcious  of  his  confinement,  and  feel  no  indignity 
offered  to  his  remains,  he  may  fet  his  mind  perfedly 
at  eafe. 

4.  Neither,  fourthly,  need  he  diftrefs  himfelf 
about  thofe  he  may  leave  behind.  There  is  a  "  fa- 
ther for  the  fatherlefs,  and  for  the  widow  there  is  a 
God.'*  He  that  "  numbers  the  hairs  of  the  head, 
and  fuffers  not  a  fparrow  to  fall  unnoticed  to  the 
ground,"  will  never,  furely,  forget  his  rational  off- 
fpring.  A  becoming  dependence  on  the  care  and 
protection  of  heaven  will  therefore  be  a  great  fup- 
port  in  our  laft  hours.  And  if  we  are  thoroughly 
poflelTed  of  this  worthy  principle,  we  fliall  not  def- 
pond,  when  called  hence,  though  torn  from  the  near- 
efl  connexions  ;  and  at  a  time,  when  our  prefence 
with  them  was  mofl:  devoutly  to  be  wiftied. 

5.  Again — Juft  apprehenfions  of  that  God,  be- 
fore whom  we  are  going  to  appear,  and  of  that 
judge,  at  whofe  tribunal  we  are  fummoned,  will 
have  a  great  tendency  towards  allaying  our  fears. 
It  is  not  a  ftern  tyrant,  to  whom  v/e  muft  give  an 
account  ;  but  a  merciful  parent,  "who  knows  our 
frame,  and  remembers  we  are  duft  ;"  who  will  make 
all  poiUble  allowance  for  our  many  imperfedions, 
and  will  deal  with  us  according  to  the  principles  of 
infinite  kindnefs  and  benevolence.  It  is  not  an  inex- 
orable judge,  who  will  pronounce  our  doom  ;  but 
one,  who  can  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  in- 
firmities, having  been  tempted  as  wc  are,  though 
without  effed. 

Jn 

Ddd 


410  THE    DESIRE,  Sifr.  [SeRM.  XXXlVi 

In  a  word,  if  it  is  "  appointed  unto  all  once  to  die^, 
and  the  grave  is  the  home  of  all  the  living,"  let  us 
each  now  ferioufly  lay  it  to  heart.  Is  it  a  truth,  my 
hearers,  that  yet  a  little  while,  and  you  and  I  fhall  be 
no  more  ?  Will  your  ears,  which  hear  thefe  words, 
be  foon  barred  in  lilence,  and  my  lips,  which  utter 
them,  foon  ceafe  to  move  ?  Will  your  eyes,  which  be- 
hold this  light,  be  clofed  in  darknefs,  and  my  heart 
lie  ftill,  which  now  throbs  at  the  refledion  ?  if  fo,  let 
us  each  live  only  to  die  ;  that  when  we  die,  we  may 
live  forever.  Let  us  fo  "  number  our  days,  as  to  ap- 
ply our  hearts  unto  wifdom.'*  Let  us  "  work  while 
the  day  lafts,  becaufe  the  night  is  at  hand,  when  no 
man  can  work."  Then  may  we  live  in  peace  ;  and 
when  we  are  called  hence,  quit  the  world  without 
difmay.  Then  may  we  reft  in  certain  hope  of  mak- 
ing part  of  that  happy  number,  "  who  will  have  a 
place  in  the  firft  refurreclion,  on  whom  the  fecond 
death  will  have  no  power  j  who  will  be  kings  to 
God,  and  priefts,  and  reign  with  him  for  ever  and 
ever." 


ft^tS)l^^%,\>%«^\,t)VV>^ 


sermon 


Serm.XXXVJ  onlipe,  b-f.  411 

g)etmott  XXXV. 

On  Life  and  Death. 

ECCLESIASTES    VII.    I. 

— "  and  the  day  of  death,  than  the  day  of 
one's  birth. 

IT  IS  natural  for  every  man  to  fpeak  according  to 
his  prefent  feelings.  In  an  hour  of  profperity, 
life  wears  an  inviting  appearance.  The  troubles  of 
it,  we  are  ready  to  think  more  than  balanced  by  its 
blejGlngs.  And  we  feel  difpofed  to  thank  our  creator 
for  calling  us  into  being.  But  let  the  fcene  change, 
and  our  fentiments  change  with  it.  Human  life,  im- 
pofed  on  us  without  our  confent,  is  no  longer  a 
blefling.  We  regret  that  we  were  born.  We  im- 
patiently fay,  "  we  would  not  live  always."  And 
we  pretend  to  feel  the  whole  force  of  that  wife  ob- 
fervation,  that  "  the  day  of  death  is  better  than  the  day 
of  one^s  birth*'* 

Man  is  an  inconftant,  ingrateful  being.  Gov- 
erned by  his  feelings  rather  than  his  judgment,  he 
feldom  abides  by  his  own  decifions.  What  he  ad- 
vances one  hour,  he  will  contradidt  the  next.  The 
eftimate  he  forms  of  human  life,  is  not  the  refult  of 
mature  examination  ;  it  is  the  hafty  conclulion  of 
fancy,  impatience,  or  refentment.  His  affairs  have 
taken  a  favourable  turn  ;  for  which  reafon,  life  is  a 
bleffing,  and  he  laments  that  it  is  no  longer.  Or,  he 
has  met  with  fome  recent  lofs,  and  then  exiftence  is 

a  burden, 


4va  ON  LIFE  [Serm.XXXV, 

a  burden,  and  it  diftreffes  him  to  reflect  how  long 
he  fhall  groan  under  it. 

To  form  a  juft  idea  of  the  prefent  ftate,  is  the  duty 
of  every  Chriftian.  It  is  of  importance,  that  we 
think  neither  too  highly,  nor  too  meanly  of  it.  The 
former  will  expofe  us  to  difappointment  ;  the  latter 
will  betray  us  into  ingratitude.  We  are  in  the 
world  ;  we  were  placed  here  by  a  wife  and  good  be- 
ing, and  for  fome  great  and  benevolent  purpofe. 
But  the  fame  wifdom,  which  introduced  us  to  thi^, 
ftate,  will  recal  us  from  it.  We  were  born,  and  we 
fhall  die.  The  queftion  therefore  is,  which  a  wife 
man  will  contemplate  with  moft  pleafure,  the  day  of 
his  birth,  or  that  of  his  diffolution  ?  Solomon  has 
decided  in  favour  of  the  latter.  "  A  good  name,'* 
fays  he,  "  is  better  than  precious  ointment,  and  ths 
day  of  deaths  than  the  day  of  one^s  birth.** 

In  difcourling  upon  thefe  words,  I  fliall  inquire, 
upon  what  fuppofition  the  wife  man  proceeds  in  ad- 
vancing this  fentiment ;  what  particular  defcription 
of  perfons  he  had  in  view,  and  upon  what  compar- 
ifon  of  things  he  formed  this  conclufion.  A  due 
examination  of  thefe  particulars,  will  put  a  rational 
conftrudion  on  his  words. 

I.  First — What  did  the  wife  prince  take  for 
granted,  when  he  afferts,  that  the  day  of  death  is  a 
more  joyful  period  than  the  day  of  one^s  birth  f  Moft  cer* 
tainly,  that  there  would  be  a  life  hereafter,  of  more 
fubftantial  and  durable  happinefs.  Upon  any  other 
fuppofition,  his  obfervation  is  not  true.  If  at  death 
we  ftiould  be  blotted  out  of  exiftence,  the  moment 
of  diffolution  would  be  the  moft  terrible  that  a  ra- 
tional being  could  contemplate.  Bad  as  life  is  repre- 
fented,  it  could  not  be  fo  formidable,  to  a  man  of 
firmnefs  and  refleclion,  as  the  idea  pf  a  total  annihi>? 

lation, 


SlR.M.XXXV.3  AND   DEATH.  41^ 

lation.  To  be  IS  fo  confonant  to  every  human  feel^ 
ing,  7iot  to  be  fo  abhorrent  from  them,  that  many 
have  aflerted,  an  exiftence  in  mifery  was  a  compara- 
tive bleffing ;  that  they  would  prefer  it  to  no  exift- 
ence at  all.  But  this,  I  conceive  rather  to  be  a  flight 
of  fancy,  than  a  fober  thought.  Men,  who  exprefs 
themfelves  in  this  language,  have  not  ferioufly  con- 
lidered  its  full  import.  A  ftate  of  fufFering,  without 
interruption,  and  without  end,  is  diftrafting  even  in 
contemplation  ! 

But  though  it  were  preferable  not  to  he^  rather 
than  to  be  forever  miferabie,  ftill  it  Vv'ill  not  follow, 
that  the  prefent  circumftances  of  human  life  would 
dictate,  or  evep  juftifj^  the  fame  choice.  Certainly, 
many  blefllngs  fall  to  our  ihare.  And  many  more 
we  might  enjoy,  were  it  not  for  our  own  folly  and 
perverfenefs.  In  numberlefs  inftances,  we  are  the 
authors  of  our  own  troubles.  We  abufe  our  liberty  5 
^61  in  direct  oppofition  to  our  fenfe  of  right  an4 
wrong  ;  and  when  we  feel  the  inconveniences  of  ouy 
folly,  we  impioufly  throw  the  blame  upon  the  gov* 
erning  providence  of  God.  Thus  the  prodigal  charges 
God  with  his  poverty,  the  glutton  with  his  infirmi- 
ties, the  drunkard  with  his  weaknefs,  or  his  pains. 
Not  one  of  them  coniiders,  that  he  has  been  the  dcf 
itroyer  of  his  own  happinefs. 

To  judge  of  life,  we  Ihould  inquire  what  creatures 
our  maker  defigned  we  Ihould  be  ;  of  what  enjoy- 
ments we  are  capable  ;  and  what  fliare  of  prefent 
bleffings  actually  falls  to  our  lot.  Did  God  intend 
that  we  fliould  reftrain  our  diforderly  paffions,  and 
follow  the  dilates  of  a  well-informed  mind  ?  and 
has  he  endued  us  with  a  moral  abihty  to  execute  his 
intentions  ?  then,  a  very  formidable  hoft  of  evils 
might  be  averted.     They  are  mere  intruders  upon 

our 


4*4  ON  LIFE  [Serm.  XXXV. 

our  enjoyment,  and  intruders  by  our  own  invitation. 
Has  the  author  of  our  being  fo  formed  us,  that  we 
may  find  an  inexhauftible  fource  of  pleafure  in  the 
pradice  of  our  duty  ?  then  it  is  not  his  fault,  if  we 
do  not.  And  after  all  our  follies,  is  it  a  fact,  that 
we  enjoy  more  than  we  fuffer  ;  that  many  more 
hours  of  pleafure  than  pain  fall  to  the  lot  of  m.en  in 
general  ?  If  it  be,  then  the  obfervation  in  the  text 
is  not  true,  but  upon  the  fuppofition  of  a  happier 
life  hereafter.  If  death  put  a  final  period  to  human 
cxiftence,  it  is  manifeftly  falfe,  that  the  hour  of  our 
diflblution  is  "  better  than  that  of  our  birth."  For 
an  exiftence,  under  our  prefent  circumfi:ances,  mull, 
in  the  view  of  a  wife  man,  be  tpiOYq  eligible  than  an 
litter  extinction  of  being. 

The  more  we  refled:  upon  the  fubjeft,  the  more 
We  mufl  be  convinced,  that  men  aggravate  their  af- 
fli<ftions,  and  overlook  the  favourable  circumftances 
of  their  lives.  They  form  wild  and  romantic  ideas 
of  happinefs  ;  and,  becaufe  they  are  difappointed, 
cavil  at  the  providence  of  God.  But,  however  in- 
grateful  man  may  treat  the  wife  and  holy  being,  who 
gave  him  life,  and  orders  the  circumfi:aRces  of  it, 
Hill  it  will  remain  true,  that  he  enjoys  more  than  he 
fufFers.  Exiftence  is  a  blefling.  To  men  in  general, 
it  is  fuch  ;  and  it  is  capable  of  being  rendered  ftill 
more  fo.  We  muft,  therefore,  call  in  the  expectation 
of  a  future  happy  exiftence,  in  order  to  juftify  the 
obfervation  in  the  text,  to  reconcile  it  with  fad,  and 
with  the  divine  charafter.  For,  furely,  Solomon 
would  not  infinuate,  that  it  were  better  72ot  to  be, 
than  to  exift  in  the  ftate  and  circumftances,  in  which 
infinite  wifdom  has  placed  the  human  fpecies. 

II.  Having  {hewn  upon  what  fuppofition  the 
fentiment  in  the  text  is  founded,  I  now  proceed  to 

thp 


SeRM.  XXXV.]  AND   DEATH.  415 

the  particular  charaders  its  author  had  in  view. 
And  when  Solomon  afferts,  that  "  the  day  of  death  is 
better  than  the  day  of  one's  birth"  he  is  evidently  fpeak- 
ing  of  good  men.  It  is  to  them,  a  dying  hour  will 
be  fuch  a  welcome  period.  They  are  the  perfons, 
who  will  exchange  worlds  to  fuch  advantage.  In 
the  next  ftate,  men  of  abandoned  charaders  will  be 
as  miferable  as  they  are  guilty.  Their  works  will 
follow  them  to  the  bar  of  God,  will  teflify  againft 
them,  and  their  acculing  confciences  will  be  a  fource 
of  inconceivable  anguifli.  The  gofpel  is  explicit  on 
this  fubjed.  It  afferts,  in  language  the  plained  and 
moft  intelligible,  that,  in  the  flate  approaching,  the 
condition  of  good  and  bad  men  will  be  effentially  dif- 
ferent. The  former  will  enjoy  pleafures,  which  no 
tongue  can  defcribe  :  the  latter  will  fuffer  torment, 
which  no  words  can  exprefs.  Such  is  the  language 
of  revelation. 

And  I  would  afk,  is  it  not  natural  to  fuppofe, 
from  what  we  now  difcover  of  a  divine  government, 
that  virtue  and  vice  muft  be  productive  of  the  con- 
fequences  here  afcribed  to  them  ?  Does  not  fome- 
thing  of  the  kind  take  place  in  the  prefent  world  ? 
By  indolence  and  extravagant  living,  a  cardels 
wretch  dillipates  his  eftate.  Does  God  interpofe,  by 
miracle,  to  preferve  him  from  ruin  ?  Out  of  mercy 
to  a  thoughtlefs  creature,  does  he  fufpend  the  laws  of 
nature,  or  change  the  courfe  of  things  ?  No.  He 
religns  him  up  to  poverty  ;  and  his  folly  becomes  his 
puniihment.  Again — inftead  of  uling  with  mode- 
ration, a  man  abufes  the  bounties  of  heaven  to  the 
purpofes  of  intemperance  and  fenfuality.  What  is 
the  confequence  ?  that  he  enjoys  the  delights  of 
fenfe  without  inconvenience  or  interruption  ?  by  no 
means.    His  own  nature  refents  the  violence  offered 

to 


4x6  ON  LIFE  [Serm.  XXX V# 

to  it  :   and  by  his  bodily  pains  and  infirmities  he  is 
chaftifed  for  his  exceffive  folly.  -'^^  --- ' 

And  why  may  not  fomething,  fimilar  to  this,  take 
place  beyond  the  grave  ?  Operating  according  to  an 
eftablilhed  conftitution,  why  may  not  our  vices  draw 
after  them  their  own  punifliment  ?  That  God  is  in- 
finitely kind  and  merciful ;  that  he  is  our  benevolent 
parent,  can  be  no  objection.  Becaufe  this  fame  mer- 
ciful being,  this  parent,  does  fuffer  us,  in  the  prefent 
world,  "  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  our  own  ways,  and 
to  be  filled  with  our  own  devices."  From  heaven, 
his  feat  of  bleflednefs,  he  does  look  down  upon  the 
children  of  men  ;  he  fees  them  render  themfelves 
vile,  and  is  a  fpedlator  of  their  mifeiy.  When  the 
prodigal  abandons  himfelf  to  floth  and  extravagance, 
he  does  not  clip  the  wings  of  his  treafures,  left  they 
fhould  fly  away.  When  the  drunkard  confpires 
againft  his  own  conftitution,  he  does  not  defeat  the 
confpiracy.  He  does  not  work  a  miracle  to  fupport 
or  reftore  the  tottering  frame.  No.  Things  take 
their  own  courfe,  and  natural  caufes  produce  their 
proper  effects.  Thefe  are  fads,  and  yet  they  are  not 
urged  by  way  of  objection  to  the  divine  goodnefs. 

Why,  then,  ihould  the  benevolence  of  the  Deity 
oblige  him  to  interpofe,  to  correct,  by  miracle,  our 
vicious  habits,  or  to  prevent  their  confequences  be- 
yond the  grave  ?  How  is  his  character,  as  a  parent, 
more  concerned  in  one  cafe,  than  the  other  ?  Is  pref- 
ent fuffering  confiftent  with  his  benevolence  ?  then 
certainly  we  may  fuffer  in  a  future  world.  Does 
God  punifli  us  here  ?  then,  furely,  he  may  punifh 
us  hereafter.  This  undeniable  fact,  that  vice  tends 
to  mifery,  that  it  depraves  our  nature,  and  unfits  us 
for  rational  happinefs,  affords  the  ftrongeft  prefump- 
tion,  that  men,  who  live  in  finj  and  die  impenitent, 
*  will 


SeRM.  XXXV.]  AND    DEATH.  41^ 

will  feel  hereafter  the  ill  effects  of  their  folly  and  dif- 
obedience.  From  the  prefent  courfe  of  events,  and 
order  of  divine  providence,  it  is  natural  to  reafon 
after  this  manner. 

But  how  certain  is  it,  that  vice  will  be  produ<51:ive 
of  future  mifery,  if  we  may  credit  the  revelation  of 
Jefus  Chrift  ?  In  the  new-teftament,  the  righteous 
difpleafure  of  God  is  denounced  againft  all  ungodii- 
nefs  of  men.  We  there  read  of  "indignation  and 
wrath,  tribulation  and  anguifti,"  of  a  "  fecond  death,^* 
of  a  mortifying  feparation  from  Jefus  Chrift  and  the 
holy  angels,  and  an  ignominious  exile  from  the 
realms  of  light  and  glory.  Thefe  repeated  declara- 
tions of  holy  writ  muft  have  fome  meaning,  and 
they  muft  be  true.  And  the  leaft  we  can  infer  from 
them  is,  that  the  ill  effects  of  moral  evil  here,  are  but 
a  prelude  to  more  dreadful  confequences  hereafter. 

Granting  this,  how  certain  is  it,  that  the  righ- 
teous only  will  have  reafon  to  welcome  the  hour  of 
their  diffolution  ?  Men  of  corrupt  hearts,  and  aban- 
doned morals,  will  exchange  this  ftate  for  a  worfe. 
Upon  the  principles  of  the  gofpel,  they  will  go  from 
a  world,  where  they  enjoy  more  than  they  fuffer, 
and  where  they  fufter  lefs  than  they  deferve,  to  a 
ftate,  where  their  mifery  will  be  proportioned  to 
their  guilt.  Here  fociety  is  made  up  of  good  men 
and  bad  :  and  the  latter  derive  great  advantage  from 
the  virtues  of  the  former.  To  fay  the  leaft,  the  por- 
tion of  moral  good  there  is  in  the  world,  alleviates 
the  circumftances  of  wicked  men,  and  for  a  time  fuf- 
pends  their  extreme  mifery.  But  in  the  refurredion 
ftate,  the  righteous  will  be  fevered  from  the  wicked, 
and  the  degraded  part  of  mankind  will  be  abandon- 
ed to  all  the  confequences  of  prevailing  iniquity.  In 
this  view,  it  is  evidentj  no  fttuation  in  life  can  be 
E  e  e  compared 


•418  (UN    LIFE  [SzRM.  XXXV. 

compcired  to  theirs.  To  mch,  therefore,  as  be  dif- 
obedient,  and  obey  not  the  truth,  better  is  the  day  of 
their  birth,  than  that  of  their  diffolution.  Better  is 
the  time  of  their  fojourning  here,  than  their  jour- 
ney's end.  For  while  they  are  in  the  world,  they 
may  become  reconciled  to  God.  But  between  death 
and  the  refurrection,  no  moral  change  can  be  effect- 
ed. With  the  fame  corrupt  habits,  the  fame  guilty 
confcicnces,  with  which  they  left  the  world,  they 
will  appear  before  the  tribunal  of  their  judge. 

Having  down  upon  what  prefumption  the  text 
is  founded,  and  to  what  deii:ription  of  perfons  it 
particularly  refers,  I  now  proceed  to  juftify  the  re^ 
mark  of  the  wife  man,  by  a  comparifon  of  the  two 
periods  of  our  birth  and  diffolution,  and  the  different 
ilates,  to  which  they  refpeclively  introduce  us. — 
And,  firft,  the  day  of  our  birth  introduces  us  to  a 
world,  where  we  fhall  meet  with  many  fevere  trials, 
where  our  virtue  will  be  exercifed  in  a  variety  of 
ways,  though,  upon  the  whole,  good  may  predomi- 
jnate.  Every  man  has  his  troubles,  and  his  enjoy- 
ments. A  fhare  of  afTiidion  is  the  lot  of  humanity. 
And  though  impatient  mortals  may  be  difpofed  to 
contemplate  the  dark  fide  of  life,  and  to  reprefent 
things  worfe  than  they  are,  yet  it  cannot  be  pre- 
tended, they  have  no  reafon  to  afpire  after  a  happier 
Hate.  The  truth  is,  "  we  do  receive  good  things  at 
the  hand  of  God,  and  at  his  hand  we  receive  evil." 
But  the  hour  of  death  will  terminate  our  fufferings. 
All  pains  will  ceafe  with  the  diffolution  of  our  bodies. 
And  when  we  rife  again,  vv'e  Ihall  be  admitted  to  a 
ftate  of  perfect  and  endlefs  felicity.  Such  being  the 
deftination  of  a  good  man,  is  not  the  day  of  his 
death  better  than  the  firfl  moment  of  his  exiftence  ? 

Secondly 


SeRx\lXXXV.]  AUID    DEATH.  411^. 

■  Secondly — The  day  of  our  birth  introduces  us 
to  a  ftate  of  comparative  darknefs  and  ignorance. 
Here  we  are  continually  perplexed  with  doubts  and. 
difficulties.  Few  things  fall  within  our  comprehen- 
fion.  And  we  are  fubjeded  to  the  cravings  of  au 
infatiable  curiofity.  To  adopt  the  language  of  an 
apoftle,  we  "  fee  but  through  a  glafs  darkly,  and 
know  but  in  part.'*  Not  ib  limited  our  views,  fo 
partial  our  attainments,  in  the  heavenly  ftate.  In 
that  world,  we  iliall  "  fee  as  we  are  feen,  and  know 
as  we  are  known."  Our  doubts  will  be  folved,  our 
difficulties  removed.  Light  and  knowledge  will  be 
poured  in  upon  our  minds  ;  and  from  our  increafing 
attainments,  we  ftiall  derive  unfpeakable  happinefs. 

Thirdly — The  day  of  our  birth  ufliers  us  into  a 
world,  where  we  muft  toil  for  a  fubfiflence  ;  where 
every  rifing  fun  will  awaken  us  to  new  cares  and  la>- 
bours.  From  thefe,  the  day  of  death  will  affiDrd  a 
welcome  relief.  "  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  fay- 
ing, write,  bleffed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord  J  yea,  faith  the  fpirit,  from  henceforth,  for 
they  reft  from  their  labours,  and  their  works  do  fol- 
low them."  No  cares,  no  worldly  concerns,  will 
find  their  way  into  that  celeftial  abode,  which  is  pre-r 
pared  for  the  righteous.  There  every  want  will  be 
fupplied.  And  the  active  fpirit  will  find  fufficient 
employment  in  contemplating  the  character  and 
works  of  God,  and  proclaiming  his  praifes, 

FouRTHLY-^The  day  of  birth  introduces  us  to  a 
ftate,  where  our  minds  will  be  often  diverted  from 
facred  things,  where  our  devotions  will  be  frequently 
interrupted,  where  virtue  will  fometimes  unfuccefs^ 
fully  conflict  with  temptation,  and  where,  from  the 
nature  of  our  fituation,  we  can  be  fandified  but  in 
part.    Not  fo,  the  heavenly  world,    In  the  future 

abodq 


4«<>  ON   LIFE  fSERM.XXXV. 

abode  of  the  righteous,  we  fhall  be  raifed  above  the 
reach  of  temptation.  Our  progrefs  in  piety  and  ho- 
linefs  will  meet  with  no  interruption.  We  fliall  run 
and  not  be  weary.  "  Our  path,  like  the  morning 
fun,  will  Ihine  more  and  more.**  Admitted  to  the 
kingdom  and  prefence  of  our  father,  we  fliall  never 
fall :  but  fhall  be  enabled  to  perfed  holinefs  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord.  In  that  world,  our  work  will  be 
praife.  An  everlafting  fabbath  remains  for  the  peo- 
ple of  God.  There  we  fliall  enjoy  the  pleafures  oi 
pure  devotion.  And  the  fervice  of  God,  while  it 
conftitutes  our  chief  employment,  wiU  be  a  fource  of 
unfpeakble  felicity. 

Fifthly—- The  day  of  our  birth  introduces  us  to 
a'  fl:ate,  where  (comparatively  fpeaking)  we  are  at  a 
diftance  from  God  ;  where  we  are  abfent  from  our 
great  friend  and  benefactor,  Jefus  Chrift  ;  where  we 
are  excluded  from  the  bleft  fociety  of  fuperior  be-, 
ings,  and  where  we  longingly  wait  to  join  our  dev 
parted  friends.  The  day  of  death  will  admit  us  to 
an  intercourfe  with  them.  In  the  heavenly  ftate,  we 
fliall  behold  the  face  of  God.  Jefus  Chrifl:  will  be 
our  companion  in  bleflednefs.  Wc  fliall  join  the 
general  aflembly  and  church  of  the  firfl:-born  ;  and 
unite  with  the  perfect  fpirits  of  the  jufl:.  The  pa- 
rent will  there  embrace  the  child,  from  whom  he 
had  been  long  divided  by  death.  The  friend  will 
welcome  the  friend  to  the  realms  of  glory.  And  the 
whole  ranfomed  of  the  Lord  will  congratulate  each 
other  on  their  mutual  felicity. 

Finally — We  are  born  to  die  ;  we  die  to  Hv^ 
forever  !  and  for  this  reafon,  the  day  of  one^s  death  is 
better  than  the  day  of  mir  birth.  If  exiftence  be  a 
blelling,  it  muft  be  infinitely  enhanced  by  the  perpe- 
tuity of  it.    But  it  is  the  privilege  of  good  men  to 

4i9 


Serm.XXXV.]  and  DEATir.  4St 

die  no  more.  "  Their  corruptible  vdll  put  on  incor- 
ruption,  their  mortal  immortality."  Had  they  "fo\\Ti 
to  the  flelh,  they  would  reap  corruption  :  but  hav- 
ing fovvn  to  the  fpirit,  they  will  reap  life  everlafting/* 
*'  Bleffed  and  holy  is  he,  who  hath  part  in  the  firft  re<r 
fiirreclion  j  on  fuch,  the  fecond  death  hath  no  pow- 
er." His  debt  is  paid  ;  his  enemy  dilarmed  :  his 
deftroyer  fwallowed  up  in  viftory  ! 

All  thefe  things  conlidered,  how  juft  the  obferv- 
ation  of  the  wife  man,  and  how  inftrudive  !  The 
end  of  life  is  better  than  the  beginning  of  it,  if  the 
expectations  of  a  Chriftian  have  any  foundation,—* 
Is  there  a  ftate  beyond  the  grave,  where  the  virtuous 
will  be  immortally  happy  ?  Is  it  the  delign  of  our 
creator,  that  we  fliall  reft  from  all  our  labours,  be  d&t 
livered  from  all  our  fufferings,  be  united  to  our  de- 
parted friends,  admitted  to  his  prefence,  behold  the 
face  of  our  divine  Redeemer,  and  (hare  his  felicity  ? 
Have  we  the  certain  hope  of  this  bleffednefs  ?  Then, 
fiirely,  it  is  better  to  die  than  to  be  born  ;  more  eli- 
gible to  be  at  our  journey's  end,  than  juft  entering 
upon  it.  Through  hope  of  eternal  life,  which  God, 
who  cannot  He,  hath  promifed,  the  death  of  a  good 
man  muft  be  a  mc?re  joyful  event,  than  his  iirft  in- 
troduclion  to  being. 

Let  us,  then,  improve  this  thought,  not  merely 
as  a  curious  fpeculation,  but  as  a  practical  principle. 
Under  the  influence  of  it,  let  us  pafs  the  time  of  our 
fojourning  in  fear  ;  and  by  a  confcientious  obedience 
to  the  divine  laws,  let  us  prepare  for  our  diffolution. 
A  life  of  honour  and  integrity,  a  fober  and  a  godly 
life,  will  afford  us  the  higheft  pleafure,  when  we  have 
arrived  at  our  journey's  end.  That  time  will  foon 
come.  Happy  for  us,  if  we  are  prepared  for  it.  If 
we  have  lived  well,  we  lliall  "  die  the  death  of  the 
pghteous,  and  our  laft  end  will  be  like  his.'* 


4^2  ON  LIFE,  e^.  [SeRM.XXXV.^ 

For  the  honour  of  human  nature,  there  are  feme, 
who  live  like  Chriftians,  and  whofe  laft  hours,  we 
have  reafon  to  think,  are  their  beft.  To  one,  who 
deferves  an  honourable  mention  on  this  occalion, 
who  merits  the  grateful  remembrance  of  this  fociety, 
We  have  lately  paid  the  laft  offices  of  refped.  He 
was  the  oldeft  member  of  the  church,  and  through  a 
long  life  fuftained  an  unfpotted  reputation.  Active, 
laborious,  and  honeft,  he  difcharged  his  duty  towards 
God,  and  towards  man.  From  high  life,  high  char.- 
acbers  are  ufually  drawn.  But  I  cheerfully  embrace 
this  opportunity  to  do  juftice  to  humble  virtue,  and 
to  draw  it  from  obfcuritv.  Honour  and  Ihame  arife 
from  no  outward  condition.  A  life  of  innocence 
and  virtue  demands  our  grateful  remembrance. 

Let  fuch  a  life  be  our  higheft  ambition.  Let  us 
follow  the  good  examples,  which  have  been  fet  be- 
fore us.  From  them,  let  us  learn  to  live,  and  learn 
to  die.  In  every  view,  the  improvement  of  human 
life  is  of  infinite  importance.  As  Chriftians,  we  con- 
fidently expect  a  future  exiftence.  And  notwith- 
ftanding  all  our  endeavours  to  impofe  upon  ourfelves, 
we  do  believe  in  our  hearts,  that  we  muft  be  holy 
before  we  can  be  happy.  Then  let  us  inftantly  at- 
tend to  our  tempers  and  lives.  Let  us  improve  all 
the  abilities  and  advantages  we  enjoy.  So  will  our 
evening  fky  be  fair  and  ferene.  In  the  moft  preff, 
ing  exigency  of  nature,  we  fhall  find  comfort.  And 
with  our  laft  breath  we  fhall  confirm  the  wife  ob- 
fervation,  that  "  a  good  name  is  better  than  pre- 
cious ointment,  and  the  day  of  death  than  the  day  qf 
tm\  birth,' 


§>ermoa 


Serm.  XXXVI.]  APPROACH,  ^c.  423 


lennon  xxxvi. 


Bte^' 


The  Approach  of  a  new  Yean 

Psalm  xc.  9. 

"  WE   SPEND  OUR  YEARS  AS  A  TALE  THAT  IS  TOLD.'* 

AS  this  day  clofes  another  year,  I  could  think 
of  no  words  more  fuited  to  the  occalion,  than 
thofe  which  I  have  now  read.  It  has,  indeed,  been 
cuftomary  with  me  to  defer  thofe  remarks  and  in- 
quiries, counfels  and  exhortations,  naturally  fuggeft- 
ed  by  the  revolution  of  feafons,  and  the  progrefs  of 
time,  till  the  actual  commencement  of  a  new  year. 
But  as  this  is  not  merely  the  laft  fabbath,  but  the 
iaft  day  in  the  year,  there  feems  to  be  fomething  fol- 
emn  in  it ;  fomething,  which,  I  would  hope,  will  give 
weight  to  the  fentiments  that  may  be  advanced  in 
the  following  difcourfe. 

MosEs,  that  eminent  fervant  of  God,  if  we  may 
credit  tradition,  was  author  of  the  Pfalm,  whence  I 
have  taken  the  text.  It  contains  many  excellent  re- 
marks on  the  nature  of  God,  and  the  deftination  of 
man.  Having  done  homage  to  the  Deity,  as  a  being 
felf-exiftent  and  everlafting,  he  proceeds  in  this  pa- 
thetic ftrain  :  "  Thou  turneft  man  to  deftruclion,  and 
fayeft,  return,  ye  children  of  men.  Thou  carrieft 
them  away  as  with  a  flood.  In  the  morning,  they 
are  like  grafs,  which  groweth  up  :  in  the  evening, 
it  is  cut  down  and  withereth.  For  all  our  days  are 
pafTed  away  in  thy  wjath  j  we  Jpend  our  years  as  a 

tale 


424  APPROACH  OF  [Serm.XXXVI. 

tale  that  is  fold,*'  It  is  not  necefiary  to  purfue  the 
pathetic  ftrain  j  nor  to  inquire  by  what  particular 
events  Mofes  was  led  to  bewail  the  condition  of  man. 
Our  time  may  be  more  ufefully  employed  in  bring- 
ing the  fubjecl  home  to  ourfelves,  in  communing 
with  our  own  hearts,  in  reviewing  the  year,  and  in- 
quiring to  what  purpofe  it  has  been  added  to  our 
lives. 

God,  who  is  the  fountain  of  wifdom  and  good- 
nefs,  never  acts  without  a  benevolent  delign.  Thefe 
divine  perfections  were  in  exercife,  when  he  called 
us  into  exiftence.  And  our  prefervatioil,  during  an- 
other year,  muft  be  afcribed  to  the  fame  caufe.-— 
Through  help  obtained  of  God,  we  continue  to  this 
moment  :  and  we  are  upheld  in  being,  becaufe  he 
lias  ends  to  accomplifh,  worthy  of  his  tranfcendent 
wifdom  and  benevolence.  The  point,  therefore,  to 
be  decided,  is  this,  whether  we  have  fpent  the  year 
in  fuch  a  manner,  as  will  bear  a  review  ;  whether 
we  have  lived  better  than  in  any  year  preceding  ; 
whether  w^e  have  reafon  to  think,  that  it  will  turn 
to  a  future  good  account. 

By  the  terms  ufed  in  the  text,  the  author  meant 
to  exprefs  the  fliortnefs  of  human  life.  Our  years 
run  out  like  a  tale  that  is  foon  told  and  ended.  But, 
as  a  tale  may  be  uninterefting  and  unimproving,  I 
would  choofe  to  underftand  the  words  as  expreflive 
rather  of  the  lofs,  than  of  the  rapid  progrefs  of  time. 
We  fpend  our  years  to  as  little  purpofe,  and  with  as 
little  real  improvement,  as  they  who  lend  their  ear 
to  the  moft  idle  and  improbable  tale.  Putting  this 
conftru£tion  on  the  words,  let  us  now  inquire  to 
what  particular  defcription  of  perfons  they  may  be 
applied,  and  whether  we  arc  included  in  the  num- 
ber» 

First 


SeRM.  XXXVI.]  A   NEW   YEAR.'  425 

First — At  the  termination  of  any  year,  who  may 
be  faid  to  have  fpent  it  as  a  tale  which  is  told  ?  I  an- 
fwer,  every  man  who  is  not,  in  moral  refpecls,  wifer 
and  better,  in  confequence  of  fo  much  time  added  to 
the  period  of  human  probation.  Whatever  acquifi- 
tions  we  have  made,  if  we  have  made  none  in  reli- 
gion, we  have  loft  a  year.  A  portion  of  time  is 
gone,  which  can  never  be  recalled.  We  have  made 
a  year's  advance  towards  the  grave,  without  a  year's 
improvement,  and  without  any  new  qualifications 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

To  thofe,  who  have  been  in  the  habit  of  treating 
ferious  things  with  contempt,  this  may  appear  a  very 
inconliderable  lofs.  It  may  appear  fuch  to  thofe, 
who,  without  being  deipifers  of  religion,  are  fo  una- 
ware of  the  uncertainty  of  life,  as  to  calculate  on 
years  to  come.  Even  falfe  views  of  religion^  particu- 
larly as  it  refpecls  a  moral  change,  may  betray  per- 
fons  into  the  fame  error.  To  have  fpent  a  year  as  a 
tale  which  is  told,  can  produce  no  great  anguifh  in  a 
mind  corrupted  by  paflion,  and  perfuaded  that  reve- 
lation is  a  fable.  They,  who  have  reafoned  them- 
felves  out  of  all  belief  of  a  future  ftate,  can  eafily  ac- 
quiefce  in  an  addition  to  their  lives,  without  any  val- 
uable addition  to  their  virtues.  But,  when  in  this 
place,  I  always  coniider  myfelf  as  addrelling  thofe, 
who  are  prepofleffed  in  favour  of  the  gofpel.  I  have 
no  right  to  think  that  any  deny  the  principles  of  re- 
ligion, or  undervalue  its  expectations,  who  vifit  a 
place,  where  thofe  principles  are  difcuffed,  and  where 
fuch  expectations  are  vindicated.  I  muft,  therefore, 
purfue  the  fubjecl  before  me,  under  the  convidion, 
that  all,  who  hear  me,  would  regret  the  lofs,  if  i; 
ihould  appear,  that  another  year  had  palTed  away 
like  a  tale  which  h  told. 

Fff  But. 


426  APPROACH  CT  [Serm.XXXVL 

But,  as  I  Mve  before  obferved,  fuch  muft  be  the 
alarming  difcovery,  if  the  concerns  of  religion  have 
been  neglected.  It  is  very  poffible,  that  the  induftry 
of  a  year  may  have  improved  our  outward  circum- 
ftances  y  and,  in  the  courfe  of  it,  that  we  have  in- 
creafed  in  this  world^s  goods.  The  convenient  dwell- 
ing, or  the  ftately  dome,  may  have  rifen  up  before' 
our  eyes.  "We  may  have  added  houfe  to  houfe,  and 
field  to  field.  We  may  have  attained  to  honours, 
which  had  long  tempted  our  ambition.  We  may 
have  extended  our  acquaintance  vnih  the  numerous 
objeds,  which  prefent  themfelves  in  the  fields  of  fci- 
ence.  This  day  may  witnefs  great  acceflions  to  our 
property,  our  honour,,  our  influence  in  fociety,  and 
our  mental  improvements  j  it  may  witnefs  an  in- 
ereafe  of  outward  good,  wholly  unexpected  at  the 
eommencem^ent  of  the  year.  Still,  if  no  other  acqui- 
fitions  have  been  made,  we  have  not  lived,  in  the 
higheil:  feftfe  of  the  term  ;  lived  to  the  glorious  pur- 
pofes,  for  which  we  were  created. 

The  happinefs  of  our  future  condition  is  indepen-- 
dent  of  any  of  thofe  external  good  things,  which  I  „ 
have  juft  enumerated.  Riches  on  earth  will  not  ac-  | 
cumulate  treafures  in  heaven.  That  honour,  which 
comes  from  man,  will  not  enfure  the  honour,  which 
comes  from  God.  Neither  will  our  accommodations^ 
in  this  world  entitle  us  to  better  accommodations  in^ 
the  world  to  come.  In  our  father^s  houfe  are  many 
liianfions ;  if  it  were  not  fo,  our  Saviour  would  have 
told  us.  Me  is  now  gone  to  prepare  a  place  for  us.^ 
But,  to  be  admitted  into  that  place,  our  hearts  muft 
have  been  improved,  not  our  outward  circumftan* 
ocs ',  we  muft  have  become  rich  in  good  works,  have 
laid  up  in  ftore  a  good  foundation  againft  the  time 
to-  come.    The  profperous,  therefore,  may  adopt  the 

language 


SeRM.  XXXVI.]  A    NEW    YfiA^.  427 

language  of  the  text,  if  they  have  not  been  melted 
by  the  goodnefs  of  God  ;  and  if  the  favours  confer- 
red on  them  have  not  excited  them  to  obedience. 

jBuT,  if  thofe  who  have  thought  of  nothing,  who 
have  purfued  and  obtained  nothing,  except  fuch 
tranfient  bkflings  as  I  have  now  defcribed ;  if  they 
may  exclaim,  we  have  f pent  a  year  like  a  tale  that  is  iold^ 
much  more  would  this  confefiion  become  thofe,  who 
have  wafted  it  in  idlenefs  and  diHipation,  in  pleafures, 
which  ruin  the  conftitution,  and  harden  the  heart ! 
Better  is  it  to  be  too  worldly-minded,  than  too  much 
g,ddicled  to  the  gratification  of  tliofe  lufts,  which 
war  againft  the  fouL  Perfons,  who  have  rifen  to 
power,  may  employ  that  power  for  the  good  of  foci- 
ety.  And  from  the  riches,  which  others  have  ac- 
cumulated, fome  public  and  extenfive  good  may  be 
derivedo  Though  their  exertions  have  been  ftimu- 
lated  by  a  worldly  principle  j  though  they  have  not 
laboured  for  their  own  fouls,  yet  they  may  have  la- 
boured for  the  community.  Inftitutions  for  the  em- 
ployment and  reward  of  the  induftrious,  for  the  re- 
lief of  the  miferable,  for  the  encouragement  of  learn- 
ing, and,  I  may  add,  religion,  have,  in  many  inflan- 
jces,  proceeded  from  an  inordinate  love  of  the  world. 

But  what  benefit  does  fociety  derive  from  folly, 
Idlenefs,  and  extravagance  ?  To  what  ufeful  purpofe 
do  they  live,  who  live  merely  in  pleafure  ?  They 
confume  the  fruits  of  induftry  whilft  they  contribute 
nothing  to  their  production.  They  injure  individ- 
uals by  their  vices,  and  the  public  by  their  example. 
And,  which,  as  it  refpecls  them,  is  of  infinite  im.por- 
tance,  they  injure  themfelves,  not  merely  by  lofing 
the  term  of  probation,  but  by  acquiring  habits, 
which  muft  be  produdive  of  unfpeakable  mifery  in 
the  ilitte  approaching.    Of  all  men,  therefore,  they 

have 


428  APPROACH  OP         [Serm.  XXXVI. 

have  moft  reafon  to  accufe  themfelves  of  folly  and 
madnefs,  when  it  is  confidered  in  what  manner  they 
have  fpent  their  years. 

The  melancholy  confeflion,  in  the  text,  ought  not, 
however,  to  be  reilricled  to  thofe  who  have  been  re- 
markably addicted  to  the  purfuits  of  pleafure,  or  the 
purfuits  of  gain.     There  are  perfons,  in  whofe  out- 
ward circumftances,  a  year  has  produced  no  vifiblc 
alteration.     If,  then,  it  has  added  nothing  to  their 
character,  it  will  juftify  the  application  of  the  text. 
Within  the  term  of  a  year,  there  are  many  oppor- 
tunities for  religious  improvement.     There  are  many 
Sabbaths,  and  fome  other  days,  confecrated  to  the     ,. 
pHblic  offices  of  religion.      There  are  many  feafons    Ij 
favourable  to  the  ftudy  of  the  facred  fcriptures,  fa- 
vourable to  inquiries  of  a  ferious  nature,  favourable 
to  meditation  and   prayer.      There   are  alfo  many 
opportunities  to  receive  good  impreffions  from  the 
converfation  and  example  of  thofe,  who  unfeignedly 
believe  the  gofpel  of  Chrift,  and  who  live  by  faith  in 
the  fon  of  God.      Though  the  world,-  with  its  ne- 
ceffary  cares  and  duties,  will  command  a  large  por-    | 
tion  of  the  year,  yet  there  will  be  all  thofe  opportu-     | 
nities  to  improve,  and  all  thofe  feafons  for  acquiring     ' 
wifdom  and  virtue,  which  have  been  now  mentioned. 
Whoever,  therefore,  has  not  availed  himfelf  of  them, 
has  fpent  a  year  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  can  be  recon-. 
ciled  neither  to  his  principles  nor  expectations  ! 

I  NOW  proceed  to  a  fecond  inquiry,  namely,  whe- 
ther we  are  included  in  this  defcription,  Conlider- 
ing  the  words  of  Mofes,  in  reference  to  the  year 
now  clofing,  ought  we  to  adopt  them  as  expreflive 
of  our  own  condud  ?  To  afcertain  this  point,  it  will 
be  neceffary  to  defcend  to  particulars.  Firft,  are  we 
confcious  of  an  increafing  love  of   God,,  and  more 

fervent 


SeRM.  XXXVI.]  A    NEW   YEAR,  429 

fervent  devotion,  than  when  we  entered  on  the 
year  ?  During  the  courfe  of  it,  we  have  experienced 
many  bleflings.  The  eye  of  our  heavenly  benefador 
has  been  upon  us.  His  arm  has  protected  us.  His 
bounty  has  fupplied  our  wants  ;  and  his  vifitation 
has  been  our  fupport.  We  have,  moreover,  enjoyed 
the  benefit  of  religious  inftructions,  publicly  difpenf- 
ed.  We  have  repeatedly  viiited  this  houfe,  and  been 
prefent  during  the  fervices  to  which  it  is  confecrated. 
Many  private  opportunities  for  contemplating  the 
character  of  God,  and  doing  homage  to  his  perfect 
tions,  have  alfo  been  granted  to  us.  In  a  word,  w^ 
have  had  means  and  motives  adequate  to  our  con- 
firmation in  the  principles  of  piety,  and  our  im- 
provement in  the  love  and  fear  of  our  maker. 

Have  thefe  defirable  effefts  been  produced  ?  Up- 
on a  careful  infpedtion  of  our  hearts,  do  we  perceive 
a  more  lively  fenfe  of  the  perfections  of  the  Deity, 
more  gratitude  to  the  author  of  all  goodj  a  more 
fervent  devotion,  and  a  more  earneft  defire  to  obtain 
his  favour,  in  confequence  of  the  moral  cultivation 
of  another  year  ?  If  we  have  confulted  the  facred 
volume,  have  its  difcoveries  of  the  nature  and  per- 
fections of  God  increafed  our  veneration  of  his  au- 
gull  and  benevolent  charafter  ?  Are  we  more  patient 
and  refigned,  than  at  any  other  period  of  life  ?  Are 
we  more  attentive,  than  ever,  to  all  thofe  duties, 
which  more  immediately  refpect  our  maker  ?  Has 
our  piety  gained  ftrength  ;  and  is  the  love  of  God 
more  abundantly  Ihed  abroad  in  our  hearts,  than 
when  the  duties  of  a  new  year  were  fet  before  us  ? 
If  we  are  confcious,  that  our  thoughts  are  more  than 
ever  directed  towards  God,  that  our  afFedions  arc 
more  powerfully  than  ever  drawn  towards  him  j 
wh^n  we  review  his  mercies,  that  we  feel  more  grate- 
ful 


^ 


,#    # 


430  APPROACH  OF        [Serm.  XXXVI, 

fill  than  in  times  paft  ;  and  that  we  experience  ^ 
pleafure,  before  unknown,  in  drawing  near  to  him 
by  prayer  and  fupplication,  we  may  be  affured  that 
we  have  not  lived  in  vain.  So  far  as  we  have  made 
any  progrefs  in  chriftian  piety,  we  have  made  a  pro- 
per return  for  the  continuance  of  life,  and  the  means 
and  advantages  of  a  religious  nature,  which  |iaye  ocr 
curred  in  the  courfe  of  a  year« 

To  proceed---Have  we  been  more  attentive,  than 
we  once  were,  to  thofe  duties,  which  relate  to  our 
fellow-men  ?  In  our  tranfacStions  with  others,  have 
we  more  fenfibly  felt  our  obligations  to  do  that 
which  is  fair  and  hpneft  ?  Have  we  been  more  lib- 
eral in  our  meafures,  more  faithful  to  engagements, 
more  benevolent,  in  all  refpeds,  than  before  we  had 
this  opportunity  £o^  ftrengthening  our  focial  princi- 
ples, and  confirming  them  by  pradice  ?  For  this 
end,  we  have  been  fpared  another  year.  God  has 
continued  our  lives,  and  powers  of  focial  adion,  that 
we  might  improve  in  juftice,  fidelity,  and  mercy.  If, 
therefore,  we  have  improved,  one  of  the  objeds  of 
<divine  benevolence  has  been  accompliflied. 

To  determine  this  point,  let  every  one,  who  is  ca- 
pable of  felf-examination,  and  who  wilhes  tp  know 
the  real  ftate  of  his  morals,  ftudy  his  own  charader. 
Let  him  put  the  folemn  queftion  to  his  own  con? 
fcience,  whether,  in  his  temporal  purfuits,  he  has 
been  more  careful  than  ever  to  do  juftly,  and  to  ex- 
ercife  mercy  j  whether  he  has  thought  lefs  of  his 
own  intereft,  and  more  pf  the  intereft  of  others. 
Let  him  appeal  to  fads,  and  fee  if  they  teftify  in  his 
favour.  If  they  do,  this  day  muft  be  a  feafon  of 
triumph  ;  if  not,  a  feafon  of  deep  humiliation  and 
remorfe. 

To  purfue  the  important  fubjed-— Can  we  appeal 


SeRM.  XXXVI.]  A   NEW    YEAR,  43! 

to  God,  who  fearches  the  human  heart,  and  in  his 
prefence  can  we  fay,  that  the  term  of  probation,  fur- 
niflied  by  another  year,  has  been  fubfervient  to  the 
conqueft  of  o\ir  paffions,  and  to  the  better  regulation 
of  all  our  afFe<5lions  ?  Are  we  more  patient  and  hum- 
ble, more  difpofed  to  exercife  forbearance,  more 
ready  to  forgive,  more  inclined  to  do  kind  offices  to 
the  evil  and  unthankful  ;  more  pure  in  heart,  more 
eircumfpe<^  in  our  converfation,  more  exemplary  in 
our  lives,  than  before  a  new  fucceffion  of  feafons  had 
completed  their  revolution  ?  If  we  fufFer  wrong,  do 
we  feel  lefs  refentful  than  at  the  period  to  which  I 
now  allude  ?  Do  we  think  more  humbly  of  ourfelves 
than  we  then  did  ?  Have  our  efforts,  during  a  year, 
to  keep  ourfelves  unfpotted  of  the  world,  beeft 
crowned  with  more  than  common  fucceft  ?  What- 
ever we  may  have  done  in  times  pafl;,  we  have  not 
fpent  this  year  like  a  tale  which  is  told,  if  we  have 
thus  fucceeded  in  the  concerns  of  religion. 

Finally — It  becomes  thofe,  who  make  a  public 
profeflion  of  Chriflianity,  to  inquire,  whether,  as 
difciples  of  the  bleffed  SavioUr,  they  have  gained  cr 
loft  ;  whether  they  are  rejoiced  or  humbled,  upon 
a  review  of  their  general  conduct.  In  how  many 
folemn  addrefTes  to  Almighty  God,  have  you  aflift- 
cd,  fince  the  year  began  ?  How  many  times  have  you 
declared  your  affent  to  the  religion  of  Jefus,  and 
your  determination  to  make  it  the  rule  of  your  faith 
and  pradice  ?  How  many  times  have  you  commem- 
orated the  aftonifhing  love  of  your  divine  Redeemer, 
and  declared  that  you  would  henceforth  live  not 
unto  yourfelves,  but  unto  him  who  died  for  you, 
and  rofe  again  ?  How  often  have  you  been  called  to 
admire  his  great  example  ;  and  how  folemnly  have 
you  engaged  to  walk  as  he  walked  ?   Have  any  of 

thefe 


432  APPROACH  OF  [Serm.  XXXVL 

thefe  refolutions  been  carried  into  efFed  ?  Have  you 
thought  more  of  his  do£lrines  and  precepts,  his  fuf- 
ferings  and  example,  than  before  you  entered  into 
thefe  new  engagements,  and  formed  thefe  refolu^ 
tions  ?  Are  your  actions  more  than  ever  like  his, 
who  was  a  pattern  of  all  goodnefs  ?  Do  you  poffefs 
more  of  his  heavenly  temper,  more  of  that  ardent 
devotion,  meeknefs,  and  compailion  ;  more  of  all  the 
religious  affeftions,  which  adorned  the  Saviour  ; 
more  of  the  true  fpirit  of  the  gofpel,  in  confequence 
of  this  addition  to  your  lives,  and  to  your  opportu- 
Pxities  for  growing  wifer  and  better  ?  It  requires  no 
very  great  effort  to  look  back,  and  to  compare  your 
improvements  at  the  commencement  and  clofe  of 
the  year.  If  you  have  gained,  the  probability  is, 
that  you  will  gain  Hill  more  :  but  very  different  is 
the  profpect,  if  religion,  and  its  momentous  concerns, 
have  been  overlooked. 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  that  habits  are 
foon  fixed  ;  and  that  we  early  form  that  charafter, 
with  which  we  leave  the  world.  Every  year,  there- 
fore, which  is  lofl  to  religion,  increafes  the  difficulty 
of  bringing  our  minds  to  a  cordial  reception  of  it,  as  | 
a  flandard  of  moral  adlion.  This  urtqueilionable  fa6t 
fhould  awaken  within  us  a  moll  ferious  concern  to 
difengage  ourfelves  from  other  objeds,  fo  far,  at  leaft, 
as  to  do  juftice  to  our  own  fouls.  For  what  is  a 
man  profited,  if  he  Ihould  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lofe  his  interefl  in  thofe  future  bleflings,  which  are 
offered  in  the  gofpel  ?  On  the  pillow  of  death,  what 
comfort  iliall  we  derive  from  the  poffeffions,  which 
we  fhall  leave  behind  ;  from  the  pleafures,  which  we 
have  enjoyed  ;  from  the  fpliere,  in  which  we  have 
moved  -,  from  the  flyle,  in  which  we  have  lived  j 
from  the  flattering  attentionsj  which  we  have  receiv- 
ed j 


SeRM.  XXXVL]  A   NEW    YEAR.  433 

ed  ;  from  any  thing,  which  has  miniftered  to  our 
pride,  or  gratified  our  fenfes  ?  In  whatever  light  we 
may  now  view  them,  thefe  objedls  will  lofe  all  their 
importance,  when  we  are  on  the  confines  of  another 
world. 

Suffer  me,  then,  to  recommend  an  immediate 
attention  to  thofe  things,  which  concern  our  ever- 
lading  peacCj  and  which  will  have  a  moft  important 
influence  on  our  future  condition.  You  are  not  re- 
quired to  rejed  thofe  good  things,  which  relate 
merely  to  the  prefent  date :  but  what  religion  re- 
quires is  this,  to  fecure  that  good  part,  which  cannot 
be  taken  from  you.  Let  this  be  the  fubjeft  of  your 
daily  prayers ;  and  let  this  be  the  work  afligned  to 
the  approaching  year,  and  to  all  the  years,  which 
may  intervene  betvi'een  this,  and  the  moment  of  dif- 
folution.  Be  no  longer  flothful  in  bufinefs,  but  fer* 
vent  in  fpirit,  ferving  the  Lord.  Let  the  time  to 
come,  be  an  improvement  on  the  time  paft.  Be  not 
conformed  to  this  world,  but  be  conformed  to  the 
word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever. 
For  all  fleih  is  as  grafs,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as 
the  flower  of  grafs.  The  grafs  withereth,  and  the 
flower  thereof  falleth  away :  but  the  word  of  the 
Lord  endureth  forever.  And  this  is  the  word, 
which  by  the  gofpel  is  preached  unto  you. 


f '*^%l%i%j%f|/^<»v»« 


,%. 


||.3#  HISTORY    OF  [SeRM.  XXXVII. 

■■■ ' ■  I  I     I    — —— «■     II         II    i—M —I— »— — au— *— II— —«» 

Sermon  xxxvii. 

The  Hiftory  of  the  Lord's-Supper* 

\ 

i  Corinthians,  x.   i6. 

"  THE  CUP  CF  BLESSING,  WHICH  WE  BLESS,  IS  I"? 
NOT  THE  COMMUNION  OF  T?IE  BLOOD  OF  CHRIST  ? 
THE  BREAD,  WHICH  WE  BREAK,  IS  IT  NOT  THE 
COMMUNION    Ol'    THE    BODY   OF    CHRIST  ?*' 

NOTHING  can  be  better  atteiied,  than  the  fa- 
cred  inftitution  of  the  Lord's-fupper  ;  nothing 
more  inteiiigible,  than  its  nature  and  moral  defign. 
in  aliufion,  perhaps,  to  the  paffover,  our  Lord  direct- 
ed his  difciples  to  eat  bread,  and  to  drink  wine,  ia 
remenibrance  of  him.  This  command  they  received 
the  fame  night  in  which  he  was  betrayed.  "  As 
they  were  eating',  Jiefus  took  bread,  and  blefled  it, 
and  brake  it,  and  gave  it  to  the  difciples,  and  faid, 
take,  eat,  this  is  my  body.-  And  he  took  the  cup, 
and  gave  thanks,  and  gave  it  to  them,  faying,  drink 
ye  ail  of  it  ;,  for  this  is  my  blood  of  the  new-tefta- 
ment,  which  is  flied  for  many,  for  the  remillion  of 
iin."  This  account  of  the  inftitution  is  furniflied  by 
the  evangelift  Matthew.  Mark  and  Luke  mention 
the  fame  tranfadion.  And  St.  Paul  fays,  he  received 
his  knowledge  of  it  immediately  from  the  Lord. 
All  that  he  had  delivered,  relative  to  this  fubject, 
was,  according  to  his  own  account,  communicated 
by  a  fpecial  revelation  from  heaven.  From  the 
unanimous  teftimony   of  thefe  writers,  we   muft, 

therefore^ 


SeHM.  XXXVn.]         THE    LORD^S-SUPPER.  4.35 

therefore,  admit  not  only  the  antiquity  of  the  Lord's- 
fupper,  but  that  it  is  an  ordinance  of  divine  appoint- 
ment. Admitting  the  facred  writings  to  be  authen- 
tic records,  we  cannot  poffibly  evade  this  conclufion. 

But  though  nothing  can  be  imagined  more  iimple 
in  its  original  inftitution,  than  the  Lord*s-fupper,  yet 
jiothing  has"^  been  more:  darkened  by  fuperftition,  or 
corrupted  by  the  fancies  of  men.  The  fucceflivc 
abufes  of  this  rite  form  a  moil  aftonifhing  article  in 
the  hiftory  of  Chriftians.  They  are  a  monument  of 
human  fagacity  and  weaknefs.  We  can  fcarcely  be- 
lieve, at  this  day,  what  monftrous  abfurdities  were 
grafted  upon  an  inftitution,  which  appears  as  little 
capable  of  abufe  as  any  rite  whatever. 

In  a  difcourfe,  not  long  lince,  I  attempted  an 
hiftorical  account  of  the  ordinance  of  baptifm.  This 
led  me  to  mention  the  changes  it  underwent  from 
the  time  of  its  inftitution  to  the  prefent  day.  The 
ordinance  of  the  fupper  I  would  now  treat  in  the 
fame  manner.  Its  divine  appointment  I  have  already 
noticed.  My  bulinefs  then,  at  this  time,  is  to  confi- 
der  what  new  ideas  were  fuperadded  to  it  ;  how  its 
nature  and  defign  were  gradually  mifunderftood  ; 
by  what  means  it  was  refcued  from  grolTer  corrup- 
tions ;  and  how  far  it  has  attained  to  its  original 
purity.  This  view  of  the  fubjed  will  furniih  fome 
ufeful  reflexions,  and  may  be  a  fuitable  preparative 
for  the  folemn  duty,  in  which  we  are  foon  to  engage. 

And  the  fir  ft  alteration  this  ordinance  underwent, 
was  from  a  memorial  of  the  fufferings  and  death  of 
its  author  to  a  facramcnt^  or  oath  of  fidelity  to  him. 
This  idea  was  borrowed  from  an  eftablifhed  pradicc 
in  the  Roman  army.  All  the  foldiers  bound  them- 
felves  by  an  oath  to  be  true  to  their  general.  This 
was  adminiftered  in  form,  and  was  ftyled  2,JacramenU 

The 


4SS  HISTORY  OP  [Serm.  XXXVIL 

The  hint  readily  took  with  Chriftians  ;  and  they, 
no  doubt,  with  the  beft  views,  adopted  the  idea. 
They  reprefented  the  Lord*s-fupper  as  a  facrament, 
in  the  Roman  fenfe  of  the  word.  Every  time  they 
communed,  they  confidered  themfelves  as  renewing 
their  oath  of  fidelity  to  Jefus  Chrift.  This  was  evi- 
dently a  deviation  from  the  fcripture  account  of  the 
inftitution  :  but  fo  fmall  as  to  excite  no  alarm.  No 
inconvenience  could  refult  from  viewing  the  ordi- 
nance in  this  light. 

But  having  once  begun  to  improve  upon  this  re- 
ligious rite,  Chriftians  knew  not  where  to  ftop.  Ac- 
cordingly, towards  the  clofe  of  the  fecond  century, 
the  fupper  was  confidered  not  only  as  an  oath,  but  a 
myjiery.  This  idea  was  borrowed  from  the  pagans. 
It  is  well  known,  there  were  fecrets  in  the  heathen 
religion,  to  which  the  common  people  were  not  ad- 
mitted. What  they  were,  has  been  differently  con- 
jet5tured.  But  fome  very  ingenious  writers  fuppofe, 
the  prieft  unfaid  in  private,  what  he  had  afferted  in 
public  ;  that,  in  the  celebration  of  the  myfteries,  the 
many  adfurdities  of  paganifm  were  exploded  ;  that 
the  exiftence  of  one  God  was  maintained,  and  fome 
of  the  fundamental  principles  of  natural  religion  im» 
parted  to  thofe,  who  were  worthy  of  fo  high  a  truft. 
This  is  the  opinion  of  fome  ;  and  there  feems  to  be 
fome  foundation  for  it.  But  whatever  might  be 
tranfaded  or  difclofed  in  private,  this  is  certain, 
none  but  feled  perfons  were  initiated  into  the  myf- 
teries. The  vulgar  were  difmifl'ed  at  the  time  of 
celebration  ;  and  an  oath  of  profound  fccrefy  im- 
pofed  upon  the  others. 

This  part  of  the  heathen  worftiip  was  very 
captivating  in  the  eyes  of  Chriftians.  Like  their 
jfieighbours,  they  wanted  fomething  myfterious  in 

their 


8eRM.  XXXVII.]         TrtE    LORD's-StTPPER.  437 

their  religion.  To  excite  the  curiofity  of  the  world, 
and  to  produce  a  flattering  diflinclion  among  believ- 
ers, now  became  their  ambition.  Accordingly,  the 
ordinance  of  the  fupper  was  turned  from  its  original 
defign,  and  perverted  to  this  fuperflitious  purpofe. 
Chriftians  affected  to  ftyle  it  a  myftery,  "  a  tremen- 
dous myftery,  dreadful  folemnity,  and  terrible  to  an- 
gels." And  thofe  who  partook  of  the  elements, 
were  fuppofed  to  be  perfons  of  fuperior  wifdom  and 
fanftity. 

Having  eftablifhed  this  idea,  fuperftition  pro- 
ceeded one  ftep  farther  ;  and  that  was,  to  fuffer 
none,  who  did  not  commune,  to  be  prefent  at  the 
celebration  of  the  Lord*s-fupper.  The  heathen  myf- 
teries  were  facredly  concealed.  Thofe  of  the  gofpel 
ought  not  then  to  be  celebrated  in  public.  Accord- 
ingly, about  the  middle  of  the  third  century,  a  prac- 
tice was  introduced,  fome  remains  of  which  con- 
tinue to  this  day.  After  the  ftated  worlhip  of  the 
Lord*s-day,  the  congregation  was  difmiffed,  the  doors 
of  the  church  clofed  and  guarded  :  and  then,  con- 
cealed from  every  profane  eye,  the  faithful  received 
the  holy  communion. 

Long  before  this  time,  a  fanftifying  virtue  had 
been  afcribed  to  the  elements.  The  bread  and  wine 
were  fuppofed  to  derive  fome  new  and  divine  quality 
from  the  form  of  confecration.  But  ftill  none  pre- 
tended their  fubftance  was  changed.  This  was  re- 
ferved  for  a  later  period,  when  men  were  ready  to 
believe  any  thing,  however  contrary  to  the  teftimony 
of  their  fenfes.  As  far  as  we  have  now  proceeded, 
we  cannot  but  refieft  with  aftonifhment  at  the  weak- 
nefs  and  folly  of  mankind.  How  furpriling,  that  any 
fiioul4  fo  mifunderlland  the  vrords  of  our  Saviour  ! 

Hov.* 


43^  HISTORY   OF  [SeRM.  XXXVn. 

How  extraordinary,  that  the  nature  and  defign  of 
this  ordinance  fiiould  be  fo  univerfally  overlooked ! 

But,  the  farther  we  recede  from  the  apoftolick 
age,  the  more  numerous  and  abfurd  the  corruptions 
of  this  originally  innocent  and  ufeful  rite.  It  was 
early  objeded  to  the  chriftian  religion,  that  it  had  no 
altars,  and  enjoined  no  facrifices  or  oblations.  Jews 
and  heathen  united  in  reproaching  Chriftianity  with 
this  fad.  Its  profefTors,  however,  foon  thought  of 
an  expedient  to  obviate  this  objeftion.  They  infift- 
ed,  that  the  Lord's-fupper  was  a  proper  facrifice,  and 
the  communion  table  an  altar.  And  by  many,  at 
this  enlightened  period,  it  is  contended,  that  the 
body  of  Chrift  is  offered  in  facrifice,  as  often  as  the 
communion  is  duly  adminiftered. 

But  the  moll  abominable  corruption  of  this  ordi- 
nance, the  moft  abfurd  and  impious  in  itfelf,  and  the 
moft  injurious  in  its  confequences,  is  known  by  the 
jFiame  of  tranjuhjiantiatlon.  This  improvement  upon 
all  former  abfurdities,  firft  awsikened  the  attention  of 
Chriftians  in  the  pinth  century.  A  celebrated  doc- 
tor of  the  church  openly  maintained,  that  the  bread 
and  wine  were  changed,  not  only  into  the  real  body 
and  blood  of  Chrift,  but  into  that  very  body  which 
Jiad  been  born  of  the  virgin  Mary,  which  had  been 
crucified,  and  raifed  from  the  dead.  To  this  it  was 
in  vain  to  objed  the  teftimony  of  the  fenfes.  The 
words  of  our  Saviour  were  produced  in  fupport  of 
the  dodrine.  "  This  is  my  body,  this  is  my  blood,** 
was  oppofed  to  every  objection,  And  finally,  the 
authority  of  the  church  eftabliftied  it  as  a  mo/l  fa- 
cred  article  of  faith.  Thus  were  "  the  cup  of  blef- 
fmg,  which  we  blefs,  and  the  bread,  which  we 
break,*'  changed  from  a  memorial  to  an  oath  ;  then 
to  a  myftery ;  then  to  a  facrifice  ;  and  lafl;  of  all,  to 
the  real  body  and  blood  of  Chrift. 

Frok 


Serm.  XXXVIL]       THE  lordVsupper.  43^ 

From  thefe  fucceflive  corruptions,  the  confe- 
quenccs,  that  would  naturally  enfue,  may  be  eafily 
imagined  At  firft,  the  whole  body  of  Chriftlans  re- 
ceived the  Lord's-fupper.  It  was  regularly  adminif- 
tered  the  firft  day  of  the  week.  And  all,  who  at- 
tended divine  worfliip,  joined  in  the  communion. 
There  was  no  diftindion  between  the  church  and 
congregation  in  the  apoftolick  age.  He,  who  believ- 
ed in  Chrift,  profeffed  his  religion,  and  efteemed  him- 
felf  indifpenfably  bound  to  walk  in  all  the  command- 
ments and  ordinances  of  it.  But  as  foon  as  the  in- 
ftitution  was  changed  from  a  memorial,  and  an  oath, 
to  a  facred  myftery,  Chriftians  began  to  paufe.  Su- 
perior qualifications  were  thought  neceffary  to  a  par- 
ticipation of  the  elements.  And  many  ferious  be- 
lievers were  afraid  of  profaning  the  Lord's  table  by 
their  prefence.  They  worfhipped,  therefore,  with  the 
faithful,  but  retired  when  the  communion  was  ad- 
miniftcred. 

This  backwardnefs  to  commune  increafed  as  the 
ordinance  became  more  an  objeft  of  fuperftitious 
veneration.  Of  this  we  find  many  complaints  in  the 
hiftory  of  the  church.  Thofe,  who  abftained  from 
the  fupper,  were  reproved  with  great  feverity.  And 
€very  argument  was  ufed  to  engage  the  people  to  at- 
tend. But  fuch  a  religious  horror  had  feized  their 
minds,  that  few  could  be  prevailed  on  to  comply 
with  their  duty.  They  confidered  the  aft  too  haz- 
ardous, and  contented  themfelves  witL  a  lower  de- 
gree of  perfeftion. 

Thus  have  I  mentioned  fome  of  the  groffer 
abufes  of  the  Lord's-fupper.  The  recovery  of  the 
genuine  doftrine  was  attempted,  but  not  completed, 
by  the  celebrated  reformer.  Though  he  reprobated 
the  idea  of  tranfubftaiitiadon,  yet  he  maintained  that 


44^  HISTORY    OF  fSERM.  XXXVII. 

of  the  real  prefence.  That  is,  he  taught  that  the  body 
of  Chrifl  was  prefent  with  the  elements,  though  their 
fubftance  was  not  changed.  This  opinion  was,  vsx 
timej  difcarded,  and  that  of  a  fan£tifying  virtue,  ac- 
companying the  bread  and  wine,  was  admitted  in  its 
place*  But  as  light  increafed,  and  the  exercife  of 
reafon  was  encouraged,  Chriftians  attained  to  ftill 
more  rational  fentiments  on  the  fubjed.  And  in 
this  country,  thofe  of  the  congregational  communion 
have  recovered  the  genuine  fcripture  doctrine,  re-^ 
fpefting  the  nature  and  efEcacy  of  this  rite.  We  be- 
lieve, that  there  is  nothing  myfterious  in  the  com- 
munion. We  believe,  that  the  "  cup  of  blefling,  and 
the  bread,'*  are  only  memorials  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  Chrift  :  that  his  death  is  called  up  to  view, 
as  often  as  we  receive  them  in  a  religious  way. 
And  we  acknowledge  the  perpetual  obligation  of 
this  ordinance.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  our  church, 
and  we  have  already  feen  it  was  that  of  our  Saviour 
and  his  apofdes. 

The  fubje<fl,  thus  far  confidered,  leads  to  fomc 
ufeful  reflections.  In  the  firft  place,  it  fliows  us,  that 
the  beft  things  may  be  abufed*  Food  and  raiment 
may  adminifter  to  our  luxury  and  pride*  Civil 
government  may  become  an  engine  of  oppreflion. 
Liberty  may  be  a  cloak  for  licentioufnefs.  And  the 
chriftian  revelation,  which  is,  beyond  all  difpute,  an 
ineftimable  blefling,  may  be  fo  miflnterpretedj  as  to 
do  incredible  mifchief  to  fociety.  AU  thefe  wc 
know  to  be  fafts.  Can  we  then  wonder  at  the  fate 
of  this  ordinance  ?  Is  it  fl;range  that  the  Lord's-fup- 
per  fhould  be  corrupted  to  the  degree  we  have  al- 
ready feen  ?  By  no  means  :  it  has  fliared  the  fate  of 
all  other  things  ;  and  is,  with  them,  a  monument  of 
human  weaknefs.  We  have,  therefore,  only  to  be- 
wail 


Serm.  XXXVII.]    THE  iord's-supper.  441 

wail  the  folly  of  mankind  ;  and  to  be  humbled,  that 
we  belong  to  an  order  of  beings,  who  are  fo  fatally 
inclined  to  pervert  the  truth,  and  to  milimprove  the 
greatefl  bleilings. 

Secondly — Thefubjed  we  have  been  confidering, 
ihows  us  the  neceflity  of  exerciiing  our  own  reafon 
upon  religious  matters,  and  particularly  carrying  it 
with  us  to  the  fludy  of  the  holy  fcripture.  Author- 
ities from  the  facred  volume  are  produced  in  favour 
of  the  groffeft  abfUrdities.  The  advocates  for  tran- 
fubftantiation  profefs  to  derive  their  opinion  from 
the  fountain  of  divine  truth.  And  it  mull  be  con- 
feffed,  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  literally  taken,  are 
in  their  favour.  For,  taking  the  bread,  he  did  fay, 
this  is  ?ny  body ;  and  prefenting  the  cup,  he  did  fay,  this 
is  my  blood.  But  What  becomes  of  this  boafted  ar- 
gument, if  we  infift,  that  reafon  and  common  fenfe 
fhall  put  their  comment  upon  the  words  ?  .  It  will 
inftantly  fall,  and  the  whole  fuperftru6ture,  raifed 
upon  it,  will  vanilh  in  a  moment. 

Hence,  then,  the  propriety,  hence  the  abfolute 
neceflity,  of  calling  in  the  aid  of  reafon  to  the  ftudy 
of  fcripture.  If  We  do  not,  what  abfurdities  fhall 
we  not  embrace  ?  We  fliall  believe,  that  God  has 
human  parts,  and  human  paflions  !  We  fliall  fup- 
pofe,  tlvat  he  is  fometimes  elated  with  joy  ;  at  others, 
deprefled  with  forrow  !  We  fliall  imagine  his  happi- 
nefs  diftutbed  by  the  follies,  or  enhanced  by  the  obe- 
dience; of  his  creatures.  And,  \^ith  refped  to  the 
rite  under  corifideration,  we  fliall  admit  its  moft  dan- 
gerous corruptions.  For,  that  Chrift  himfelf  may 
be  created  out  of  the  elements  ;  that  we  do  eat  his 
real  flefli,  and  drink  his  blood,  will  be  true,  if  reafon 
is  not  to  be  confulted  in  our  religious  inquiries. 

Thirdly 
Hhh 


44*  HISTORY  OF  [Serm.  XXXVII# 

Thirdly— We  learn  from  this  fubjed,  the  dan- 
ger of  even  the  fmalleft  deviations  from  the  word  of 
God,  or  the  moft  innocent  human  inventions.  The 
Lord's-fiipper  was  an  appointed  memorial  of  his 
death.  Thus  the  difciples  confidered  it  ;  and,  in 
this  view,  it  anfwered  every  moral  ptirpofe.  But 
liich  plainnefs  and  limplicity  did  not  fuit  the  tafte  o£ 
Chriflians.  Accordingly  they  began  to  innovate  ; 
and  having  thus  forfaken  their  infpired  guide,  they 
wandered  wherever  their  fancies  led  them.  Moft 
rapid  is  the  progrefs  of  fuperftition.  From  one  ab- 
furdity,  men  fly  to  another  ;  and  it  is  almoft  incred- 
ible, how  foon  the  moil  important  truth  may  be 
obfcured  and  loft. 

Let  us,  then,  refolutely  oppofe  the  firft  advances 
of  fuperftition.  To  the  divine  law  and  teftimony, 
let  us  fteadily  adhere.  Let  the  word  of  God  be  our 
only  guide  :  and  let  us  conftantly  ftudy  that  word, 
in  order  to  preferve  the  purity  of  our  faith  and  prac- 
tice. AE  the  corruptions,  which  have  deformed 
Chriftianity,  are  owing  to  our  receiving  for  doc- 
trines the  traditions  of  men.  Let  the  infpired  wri^ 
tings  be  faifed  above  all  human  authority,  and  the 
religion  of  Jefus  will  no  longer  affront  the  common 
fenfe  of  mankind. 

Fourthly — Let  us  be  thankful,  that  we  live  in 
an  enlightened  age  ;  and,  in  particular,  that  we  have 
been  led,  by  the  providence  of  God,  to  rational  ideas 
of  the  Lord's-fupper.  Many  of  our  fellow-chriftians- 
are  ftill  groping  in  darknefs.  The  far  greater  part 
of  thofe,  who  profefs  our  religion,  believe,  either 
that  Chrift  is  adually  prefent  in  the  bread  and  wine, 
or  that  they  are  converted  into  his  body  and  blood. 
Hence  they  pay  divine  homage  to  the  elements.—- 
They  imagine^  that  the  very  body  of  Chrift  is  re- 
ceived 


Serm.  XXXVII.]     THE  lord's-supper.  445 

ceived  by  the  communicant  ;  that  the  church  feeds 
on  him  in  the  literal  fenfe  j  and  that  her  fpiritual 
growth  and  nourifliment  are  to  be  wholly  afcribed 
to  this  myftical  repaft. 

But,  bleljTed  be  God,  none  of  thefe  abfurdities  are 
Simong  the  articles  of  our  faith.  Our  underftand- 
ings  are  not  fo  grofsly  affronted  by  our  religion^ 
We  believe  that  Jefus  Chrift  died  for  us,  and  that 
the  fupper  was  inftituted  to  perpetuate  the  memory 
of  this  event.  Thus  our  Saviour  taught,  and  thus 
we  believe,  Wherefore,  let  us  be  thankful  that  our 
minds  are  fo  enlightened,  Let  us  blefs  God,  that 
we  were  born  in  a  land  of  freedom,  where  the  fcrip- 
tures  are  accefUble  to  all,  and  every  man  may  ex- 
lamine  for  himfelf.  And,  more  efpecially,  let  it  excite 
our  gratitude,  that  we  have  fuch  frequent  opportu- 
mities  for  religious  communion,  and  that  we  are  fo 
well  inftru6led  in  the  nature  and  importance  of  this 
duty. 

Finally — ^Let  us  cheerfully  embrace  the  prefent 
opportunity  of  receiving  the  bread  and  cup  in  re- 
inembrance  of  our  Lord.  We  have  abundant  rea^ 
fon  to  be  thankful  for  this  divine  inftitution.  It  is 
a.  privilege  and  an  honour,  to  which  we  have  no 
claim.  If,  however,  we  be  careful  wifely  to  improve 
it,  we  fhall  find,  by  happy  experience,  that  it  is  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  promote  the  caufe  of  religion 
in  our  fouls.  The  often er  we  call  up  the  idea  of  our 
mafter,  the  better  we  fhall  love  him.  The  oftener 
we  reflect  upon  his  fufferings  and  death,  the  more 
wiU  he  be  endeared  to  us.  And  frequent  commu- 
nion with  our  fellow-chriftlans,  will  certainly  im- 
prove our  friendfhip  for  each  other.  All  thefe  are 
the  natural  fruits  of  a  regular  and  pious  obfervance 
of  this  pofitive  duty. 

Let 


444  DESIGN  OF  [Serm.  XXXVIHr 

Lit  us,  then,  approach  the  table  of  the  Lord  with 
grateful  fentiments,  and  devout  afFedions.  Let  "  the 
cup  of  blefling,  which  we  blefs,"  remind  us  of  that 
blood,  which  was  fhed  on  the  crofs,  when  the  Lor4 
and  giver  of  life  finifhed  his  benevolent  work.  Let 
*'  the  bread,  which  we  break,"  c^l  up  to  view,  his 
body,  which  was  broken  for  us,  And  by  a  participa- 
tion of  thefe  eleipentSj  may  we  be  improved  in  faith, 
an  love  to  Chrift,  in  chai^ty,  and  in  every  branch  of 
evangelical  obedience.  Then  will  it  be  good  for  ug 
that  we  have  been  here  ;  and  this  pleafmg  interr 
courfe,  here  below,  will  prepare  us  for  a  more  de- 
lightful intercourfe  in  that  kingdom,  which  fliall 
never  be  moved  ! 


•^ — 


)ennon  xxxviii. 


The  Defign  of  the  Supper. 


»fe(KSM5»®®^« 


I  Corinthians,  x.   17. 

— "  WE    ARE    ALL    PARTAKERS    OF    tHAT    ONE 
BREAD.'^ 

IF  we  examine  the  hply  fcriptures,  we  fiiall  find, 
that  nothing  can  be  clearer,  than  the  nature  and 
«iefign  of  the  Lord's-fupper.  To  remember  a  bene-^ 
factor  is  undoubtedly  a  moral  duty.  To  love  them, 
who  have  loved  us,  and  have  expofed  themfelves 
for  our  benefit,  muft  be  acknowledged  to  be  equally 
fit  and  reafonable  in  itfelf.    And  to  love  each  other: 

with 


SeRM.  XXXVIII.]  THE   SUPPER.  445 

with  the  tendernefs  of  brothers,  muft  be  felt  to  be  a 
duty  by  the  whole  body  of  Chriftians.  Upon  thefe 
plain  and  undeniable  principles,  the  ordinance  of  the 
holy  fupper  is  founded.  Our  Saviour  inftjtuted  this 
religious  feaft,  that  his  followers  might  always  re- 
member his  death  and  paffion,  and  be  excited  to 
mutual  charity  and  good  will.  With  this  view,  the 
rational  part  of  the  chriftian  world  have  always  ob- 
served this  ordinance.  And  with  this  view  will  they 
continue  to  obferve  it,  till  its  divine  author  fliall 
again  appear,  and  faith  fliall  be  fw^iUowed  up  iji 
vifion. 

But,  though  the  fcripture  account  of  this  ordi- 
nance is  thu3  clear  and  intelligible,  it  cannot  be  de- 
nied, that  many  regard  it  in  a  very  different  light. 
Even  among  the  primitive  Chriftians,  there  were 
miftakes,  which  needed  to  be  correded.  St.  Paul 
alludes  to  fome,  which  were  a  grofs  perverfion  of  the 
Lord*s-fupper  ;  apd  which  really  confounded  it  with 
a  licentious  revel.  But  ftill  greater  corruptions  took 
place  afterwards.  In  time,  the  communion  was 
changed  to  a  facrifice  ;  the  cup  was  refufed  to  the 
people  ;  and  the  bread  was  exhibited  as  a  proper  ob- 
jed  of  fupreme  adoration. 

When  fcience  j^egan  to  dawn  on  the  chriftian 
world,  thefe  abfurditieg  were  expofed  5  and,  by 
many,  rejected.  Still,  however,  the  fubjed  was  em- 
barraffed  by  human  fpeculations.  The  queftion  was 
urged,  whether  Chrift  was  not  prefent  in  the  ele- 
ments ?  Whether  the  communion  may  not  be  con* 
fidered  as  a  feaft  on  facrifice  ?  Whether  extraordi- 
nary virtue  be  not  in  the  elements  after  confecra- 
tion  ?  Whether  any  have  a  right  to  partake,  till  they 
have  certain  experience  of  their  qualification  for  hea- 
yen  ?  Thefe,  and  fimilar  fpeculationSj  employed  and 

agjitated 


44^  ©EsiGN  OF  [Serm.  XXXVIir» 

agitated  the  chriftian  community  ;  nor  is  the  con- 
troverfy  decided  even  at  the  prefent  day, 

A  SERIOUS  and  judicious  appeal  to  the  holy  fcrip- 
tures  will,  however,  afford  all  needed  fatisfa6lion  to 
every  devout  inquirer.  If  we  will  fuffer  Chrift  and 
his  apoftles  to  fpeak  for  themfelves,  we  fliall  eafily 
difcern  the  nature  and  defign  of  the  communion,  by 
whom,  and  in  what  manner  it  ought  to  be  celebrat- 
ed. Not  long  before  his  death,  our  Lord  took  bread, 
and  having  given  thanks,  brake  it,  and  diftributed 
it  among  his  difciples.  After  the  fame  manner,  alfo, 
he  took  the  cup,  and  gave  it  to  them  to  drink.— 
Here  is  a  plain  account  of  the  inftitution.  It  is  un- 
necelTary  to  inquire  of  what  fpecies  of  bread  they 
partook,  or  of  what  wine  they  drank.  Whether  the 
former  was  unleavened,  or  the  latter  mingled  with 
water,  are  inquiries  of  no  confequence  to  the  Chrif- 
tians  of  this  age.  For  men,  who  reflet,  it  is  impof- 
iible  to  lay  any  ftrefs  upon  fuch  circumftances.  It  is 
fufficient  that  the  bread  and  the  cup  were  received 
by  the  difciples  ;  that  they  were  received  by  fpecial 
appointment  of  Jefus  Chrift  ;  and  in  remembrance 
of  him  ;  and  that  the  fame  ufage  was  to  continue 
in  the  church  till  the  fecond  coming  of  our  Re- 
deemer. Thus  far  we  have  the  facred  fcriptures  on 
our  fide.  In  this  reprefentation  of  things,  there  is 
no  myflery  :  but  the  communion  appears  to  be  a 
rational  and  ufeful  inftitution. 

In  regard  to  the  particular  defign  of  the  Lord*s- 
fupper,  that  may  eafily  be  coilefted.  In  the  firft 
place,  we  celebrate  the  communion,  in  order  that 
we  may  always  remember  the  fufferings  and  death  of 
Jefus  Chrift  ;  and  be  thus  furnifhed  with  an  effedual 
motive  to  univerfal  obedience.  The  Saviour  of  men, 
though  a  perfon  of  unblemiflied  charader,  was  treat- 
ed 


SfiRM.  XXXVIII.]  THE    SUPPER.  44^ 

cd  with  the  utmoft  inhumanity.  He  was  defamed, 
pcrfecuted,  denied,  betrayed,  condemned,  and  finally 
executed  on  the  crofs.  To  this  death,  painful  and 
ignominious  as  it  was,  he  cheerfully  fubmitted,  that 
he  might  give  the  higheft  evidence  of  his  fincerity  ; 
and  might  be  in  a  capacity  for  bringing  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light.  This  was  a  moft  wonderfnl  a£t 
of  goodnefs  ;  the  moft  extraordinary  that  was  ever 
performed  in  the  world.  By  fuffering  in  this  man- 
ner, our  Saviour  laid  the  foundation  for  pardon  and 
falvation.  He  gave  a  mortal  wound  to  the  empire 
of  darknefs.  And  he  opened  to  mankind,  an  al« 
luring  profped  beyond  the  grave. 

Thus  extraordinary  in  itfelf,  and  beneficial  in  its 
confequences,  the  death  of  our  great  mafter  ought 
always  to  be  remembered.  There  is  the  utmoft  pro- 
priety, that  we  fhould  frequently  call  up  a  fcene, 
with  which  univerfal  nature  feems  to  have  been  af- 
fected. When  the  Saviour  expired,  the  fun  hid  his 
face  !  the  dead  awoke  from  their  {lumber,  as  if  roufed 
by  the  tragedy  which  had  juft  been  a6led !  the  veil 
of  the  temple  was  rent  in  twain,  as  if  it  partook  of 
the  outrage,  which  was  offered  to  the  divine  fufierer  I 
the  earth  trembled,  as  though  a  confcious  witnefs  of 
the  whole  tranfadion  1  and,  as  if  more  fufceptible  of 
grief  than  the  hearts  of  his  enemies,  even  the  rocks, 
the  hardeft  parts  of  inanimate  creation,  were  dilTolv- 
ed  !  Such  were  the  circumftances  attending  the  death 
of  Jefus  Chrift.  Ought  we  not,  then,  to  remember 
that  event  ?  And  is  not  the  Lord*s-fupper  wifely  cal- 
culated to  perpetuate  its  remembrance  ?  When  we 
furround  the  table,  do  we  not,  in  a  manner,  put  our- 
felves  in  the  fituation  of  thofe,  who  beheld  him  on 
the  crofs  ?  Does  not  the  bread  reprefent  his  body  in 
a  ftate  of  fu£fering,  and  the  wine  hisblood*  which - 

wai 


44^  DESIGN  OF  [Seku,  XXXVllh 

^as  fhed  ?  And  by  receiving  both  the  one  and  the 
other,  do  we  not  take  a  very  efFeclual  meafure  to 
preferve  the  memory  of  his  wonderful  paflion  ?  Our 
Lord  has  gone  into  heaven.  Left,  therefore,  we 
Ihould  forget  him,  he  has  been  pleafed  to  fpread  this 
table,  and  to  invite  us  to  the  facred  feaft.  And  if 
we  come  with  a  proper  temper,  we  ftiaU  derive  great 
improvement  from  this  intercourfe  with  him,  and 
with  each  others 

Among  the  wonderful  works,  by  which  God 
manifefted  his  regard  for  his  ancient  people,  a  moft 
iignal  one  was,  his  fmiting  the  firft-born  in  every 
houfe  of  the  Egyptians,  and  paiiing  over  the  houfes 
of  Ifrael.  In  this  event,  there  was  a  difplay  of  mer- 
cy and  vengeance.  By  depriving  them  of  obje^te^ 
which  were  particularly  dear  to  them,  God  punifhed 
the  Egyptians  for  their  oppreflion.  And,  by  fparing 
the  firft-born  of  Ifrael,  he  in  fome  meafure  alleviafted 
the  burden  of  their  fufferings  ;  and  gave  them  an 
carneft  of  his  future  favours.  That  their  minds 
might  be  properly  affected  with  this  extraordinary 
inftance  of  goodnefs,  it  was  necefTary,  that  the  whole 
tranfa^lion  fhould  be  remembered.  Accordingly, 
the  palTover  was  inftituted  ;  and  annually  obferved, 
with  great  folemnity,  by  the  chofen  people.  This 
myfterious  rite  kept  alive  the  remembrance  of  God's 
fpecial  kindnefs.  It  had  a  wife  tendency  to  confirm 
their  faith  in  him  ;  to  produce  a  rational  confidence 
in  his  care  and  mercy  ;  and  to  infpire  them  with  un-« 
feigned  gratitude  towards  their  preferver. 

And  the  fame  good  ends  may  be  anfwered  by  the 
inftltution  of  the  fupper.  By  means  of  the  death  of 
Chrift,  we  obtain  a  far  more  important  deliverance, 
than  that  which  was  wrought  out  for  the  nation  of 
Ifrael.    Meafures  are  taken  for  our  deliverance  from 

the 


I 


serm.  xxxvni.]       THE  sup?er;  449 

the  reigning  power  of  fm,  and  from  the  malice  of 
fatan.  By  means  of  that  gofpel,  which  was  fealed 
by  the  blood  of  Jefus,  we  may  obtain  our  fpiritual 
liberty.  He  came  into  the  world,  that  he  might 
bring  forth  thofe,  who  were  bound  ;  that  he  might 
redeem  the  captive  ;  let  the  oppreffed  go  free  ;  and 
preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord.  Thefe  were 
the  great  ends  of  his  miflion  ;  and  for  the  final  ac- 
complifliment  of  th'^fe,  he  laid  down  his  life.  Is  not^ 
then,  a  comrtifemorative  reprefentation  of  his  death, 
an  ordinance  to  be  facredly  efteemed,  and  devoutly 
obferved  by  Chriftians,  till  he  llxall  come  to  be  glori- 
fied by  his  faints,  and  admired  by  them  who  believe. 

When  the  pafTover  was  inftituted,  the  Ifraelite 
was  direded  to  explain  the  nature  of  it  to  his  child, 
when,  urged  by  a  natural  euriofity,  he  fliould  afk  the 
meaning  of  that  ordinance.  "  And  it  lliall  be,  when 
thy  fon  alketh  thee,  in  time  to  come,  fdying,  what  is 
this  ?  that  thou  fhalt  fay  unto  himj  by  ftrength  of 
hand  the  Lord  brought  us  from  Egypt,  from  the 
houfe  of  bondage.  And  it  came  to  pafs,  when  Pha- 
raoh would  hardly  let  us  go,  that  the  Lord  flew  all 
the  firft-born  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  both  the  firft- 
born  of  man  and  the  firft-born  of  beaft.  Therefore, 
I  facrifice  to  the  Lord  all  the  latter  ;  but  all  the  firft- 
born  of  my  children  I  redeem."  This  account  of 
the  palTover  mull  be  a  high  gratification  to  a  young 
mind.  And  thus  inftructed,  a  reverence  for  the  in- 
ftitution  would  naturally  increafe  with  his  years. 

And  why  may  not  the  fame  meafure  be  taken  to 
infpire  an  early  refpecl  for  the  Lord's-fupper  ?  It  ap- 
pears to  me,  that  there  would  be  a  manifeft  propriety 
in  permitting  our  children  to  be  prefent  at  the  com- 
munion, as  foon  as  they  are  capable  of  behaving  with 
decency.  The  elements  would  naturally  attrad  their 
I  i  i  notice  j 


45^  '  iJin5i:dN  o?  t^ERM.XXXVIIfr 

notice;  and  the  celebration  of  the  communion  would 
teadily  fuggeft  fome  pertinent  inquiries.  Like  the 
yoHng  Ifraelite,  they  would  afk  the  meaning  of  thefe 
things.  We  might  then  recite  to  them  the  benevo- 
lent actions,  and  defcribe  the  amiable  character  of 
Jefus  Chrift.  We  might  relate  to  them  how  many 
good  things  he  did,  and  how  many  evil  ones  he  fuf- 
fered.  We  might  tell  them  in  how  cruel  and  Ihame- 
fal  a  manner  he  was  put  to  death.  And,  finally,  we 
might  point  out  the  analogy  between  his  death  and 
the  ordinance  inftituted  in  commemoration  of  it.  Ta 
fuch  a  fubjeift,  the  ears  of  a  child  would  be  open. 
And  whilft  an  innocent'  curiofity  was  gratified,  the 
heart  might  receive  fome  lafling  religious  impreflions. 
Thus  have  I  confidered  one  great  end  af  the  com- 
munion, to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  Jefiis  Chrift, 
and  to  Ihew  forth  his  death  till  he  come.  I  proceed 
to  obferve,  fecondly,  that  by  partaking  of  one  bread, 
and  drinking  of  one  cup,  charity  and  good  will 
among  Chriftians  are,  at  the  fame  time,  exprelTed  and 
promoted.  At  the  Lord's  table,  the  rich  and  poor, 
the  high  and  low  meet  together.  They  unite  in  the 
lame  offices  of  devotion  ;  and  partake  of  the  fame 
fpiritual  feaft.  One  and  the  fame  great  event,  they 
all  commemorate  ;  and  they  rejoice  in  hope  of  the 
fame  great  falvation.  Formed,  in  this  manner,  into- 
a  fpiritual  brotherhood  and  fociety,  their  hearts  be- 
come mutually  warmed  by  chriftian  communion.— 
As  often  as  they  approach  the  table,  they  affure  the 
world,  that  they  are  not  afliamed  of  each  other.  And 
they  take  a  very  natural  and  effectual  meafure  to  ex- 
tinguilh  all  pride,  envy,  prejudice,  malice,  and  every 
palfion,  which  is  unbecoming  the  temper  of  the  gof- 
pel,  or  condemned  by  its  laws. 

Feasting  at  the  fame  table  is  a  very  natural  ex- 

preffion 


SZRM.  XXXVIIL]  TH£    SUPPER.  451 

preffion  of  love  and  good  will.  »Such  an  intercourie 
in  common  life  is  generally  interpreted  as  a  mark  of 
friendlhip.  And  we  learn  from  ancient  writings^ 
that, whenever  any  covenant  v/as  made,  or  any  difpute 
was  compromifed,  the  parties  covenanting,  or  thofe, 
between  whom  a  reconciliation  had  taken  place,  ufu- 
ally  concluded  the  ceremony  with  a  feaft«  This  was 
to  fhow  that  all  differences  were  at  an  end  ;  and  that 
one  fpirit  adu.ated  both.  In  the  iame  light  we  may 
confider  the  communion.  It  is  a  public  declaration, 
that  we  efteem  each  other  as  friends  ;  and,  in  a 
moral  fenfe,  that  we  have  one  heart,  and  one  foul. 

But  further— ^Eating  of  the  fame  bread,  is  not 
only  a  teftimony  of  mutual  love,  but  it  is  a  mea- 
fure  divinely  calculated  to  excite,  increafe,  and  con- 
firm a  principle  of  religious  afFeftioUp  Any  kind  of 
intercourfe,  whether  for  civil  or  moral  purpofes^ 
tends  to  bind  us  to  each  other.  Perfons,  whom  we 
often  fee,  and  with  whom  we  familiarly  converfe, 
naturally  grow  dear  to  us.  The  longer  we  are  in 
habits  of  intimacy  with  them,  the  more  we  are  dif- 
pofed  to  befriend  them  5  and  the  more  interefted  we 
feel  in  their  happinefs.  Hence  the  excellency  of  this 
ordinance.  It  brings  us  near  to  each  other.  It  places 
us  all  upon  a  leveh  For  a  time,  it  makes  us  forget 
the  civil  diftindions  of  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor. 
And  contemplating  the  fame  divine  Saviour,  and 
uniting  in  the  fame  olEces  of  devotion,  the  native 
benevolence  of  our  hearts  is  called  into  exercife ; 
and  we  are  led  to  an  honourable  imitation  of  thofe 
early  Chriftians,  whofe  love  and  good  will  were  an 
objecl  of  univerfal  admiration. 

This  is  a  point,  on  which  I  cannot  but  infift,  be- 
caufe  the  honour  of  Chriftianity  is  greatly  concerned 
in  it.    In  the  fame  degree,  in  which  we  live  together 

in 


45*  BESieN  OF  [Serm.  XXXVIII. 

in  love  and  peace,  the  excellency  of  the  gofpel  will 
be  vifible  to  the  world.  If  we  envy,  reproach,  or 
contend  with  each  other,  thofe,  who  are  without, 
will  never  believe  that  we  have  any  religion  at  heart. 
Nor  will  they  fufpeft  the  fincerity  of  our  profellions, 
if  we  behave  in  a  different  manner.  It  is,  therefore, 
of  the  laft  moment,  that,  when  "  we  keep  the  feaft, 
we^fhould  keep  it,  not  with  the  old  leaven,  neither 
with  the  leaven  of  malice  and  wickednefs,  but  with 
the  unleavened  bread  of  fincerity  and  truth." 

In  that  laft  and  moft  affeftionate  difcourfe,  which 
our  Lord  made  to  his  difciples  ;  which  he  delivered 
not  long  before  his  death,  and  at  the  time,  in  which 
he  inftituted  the  fupper,  he  made  particular  mention 
of  a  friendly  and  benevolent  temper  ;  and  warmly 
recommended  it  to  his  followers.  "  This  is  my 
commandment,"  fays  he, "  that  ye  love  one  another, 
as  I  have  loved  you."  And  the  apoftle  John,  who 
leaned  upon  our  Lord's  breaft,  and  feems  to  have 
been  a  partaker  of  his  moft  amiable  fpirit,  urges  this 
duty  with  like  earneftnefs  :  "  Herein,"  fays  he,  "  is 
love  ;  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us, 
and  fent  his  fon,  to  be  a  propitiation  for  our  fms. 
Beloved,  if  God  fo  loved  us,  we  ought  alfo  to  love 
one  another.'*  Again  :  "  Hereby  perceive  we  the 
love  of  God,  becaufe  he  (that  is  Chrift)  laid  down 
his  life  for  us  ;  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives 
for  the  brethren."  That  is,  we  ought  to  love  them 
fmcerely  and  ardently  :  we  ought  to  deny  ourfelves 
many  things  for  their  benefit  ;  and  we  ought  to 
ftudy  their  comfprt,  honour,  and  happinefs.  This  is 
the  true  fpirit  of  the  gofpel.  If  we  are  Chriftians, 
we  fhall  have  this  temper.  It  will  always  accompany 
us  to  the  Lord's  table.  And  it  will  be  improved  and 
confirmed  by  partaking  of  that  one  bread,  which  is 
ft  fit  emblem  of  our  religious  union.  IjT 


Serm.  XXXVIII.~|  Yhe  supper.  4^^" 

It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  perfons  to  fufpe<^ 
their  worthinefs  to  celebrate  the  communion.  But 
i  have  long  obferved,  and  to  my  great  mortification, 
that  their  fcruples  have  generally  rifen  from  one 
fource.  They  have  fufped:ed  their  love  to  God, 
their  gratitude  towards  Jefus  Chrift,  and  the  nature 
and  ftrength  of  their  faith.  But  this  is  only  one 
view  of  the  fubjeft.  The  great  queftion  is,  am  I  in 
love  and  charity  with  my  fellow-chriftians  ?  Do  I 
feel,  as  I  ought  to  do,  towards  my  neighbours  ?  Do 
I  feel  as  meek,  patient,  and  forgiving,  as  my  religion 
obliges  me  to  be  ?  Have  I  the  temper  of  my  great 
mafter  ?  Thefe  are  queftions,  which  I  have  the  ut^ 
moft  reafon  to  alk  my  own  heart,  And  it  is  poffi- 
ble,  that  the  fame  inquiry  might  be  profitably  urged 
by  all,  who  call  themfelves  Chriftians. 

The  two  great  ends  for  celebrating  the  commu- 
nion, have  now  been  difcufled.  We  obferve  this 
ordinance,  that  we  may  preferve  the  memory  of  Je- 
fus Chrift,  and  be  excited  to  love  one  another.  And 
in  this  view  of  it,  what  obje6lion  can  be  made  to 
this  inftitution  ?  Why  is  it  necelTary  to  urge  an  at- 
tendance on  it,  by  fo  many  arguments  ?  Why  is  it 
neceflfary  to  labour  the  point  fo  warmly,  and  fo  fre- 
quently, with  the  fober  part  of  mankind,  in  order 
to  engage  them  to  come  to  the  table  ?  Do  you  ob- 
jed,  that  you  are  not  fo  improved  in  piety  and  vir- 
tue,  as  to  entitle  you  to  fuch  a  privilege  ?  This  is 
one  of  the  means  of  improvement.  You  are  invited 
to  the  table,  in  order  that  you  may  be  in  the  way 
of '•growing  wifer  and  better.  Do  you  plead,  that 
many,  who  obferve  this  rite,  do  not  live  anfwerably 
to  their  engagements  ?  Then  do  you  come,  and  fet 
a  better  example.  You  will  render  unfpeakable  fer- 
yice  to  the  chriftian  caufe,  by  refcuing  it  fix)m  the 

imputations. 


#54  DisiGN  Of         [Serm.  XXXVIH. 

imputations,  to  which  it  has  been  fubjeded,  by  the 
unworthy  condud  of  its  profefibrs.  Do  you  urge, 
that  you  may  poflibly  forget  your  moft  folemn  en- 
gagements, and  thus  increafe  your  guilt  and  con- 
demnation ?  Let  me  fay,  the  fame  objedion,  carried 
through,  would  prevent  your  attendance  on  any  re- 
ligious inftitution  whatever.  Why  do  you  attend 
public  worfliip  ?  Why  do  you  improve  your  minds 
by  religious  ftudies  ?  Why  do  you  dedicate  your  in- 
fant offspring  to  the  moli  high  ?  You  muft  know, 
that  thefe  are  virtually  a  profeffion  of  the  chriftian 
faith  ;  and,  unlefs  you  praclife  conformably  to  this  ■ 
profeffion,  that  you  muft  anfwer  for  it  at  another 
day.  You  nnay  forget  the  facred  admonitions,  which 
you  hear.  You  may  forget  the  moral  leffons,  which 
you  read.  And  when  you  have  folemnly  and  pub- 
licly dedicated  a  child  to  the  author  pf  its  being,  you 
may  negled  to  bring  it  up  in  the  nurture  and  ad- 
monition of  the  Lord.  The  obligations  taken  on 
yourfelves,  by  thefe  ads  of  religion,  are  as  binding 
^s  thofe  which  rife  from  chriftian  communion.  But 
if  the  poffibility  of  behaving  unworthily  is  not  urged 
in  the  one  cafe,  why  is  it  in  the  other  ? 

No  man  can  refled  on  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind,  on  his  obligations  to  Jefus  Chrift,  on  the  re- 
lation fublifting  between  him  and  his  fellow-chrif- 
tians,  and  on  the  moral  tendency  of  this  ordinance, 
without  feeling  the  fulleft  conviction,  that  a  devout 
attendance  on  it  would  be  for  his  comfort  and  adr 
vantage.  I  have  reafon  to  believe,  that  many,  whom 
I  now  addrefs,  can  fubfcribe  to  this  obfervation.— * 
Having,  during  a  courfe  of  many  years,  commemo- 
^'ated  the  death  of  their  facred  matter,  habits  of  pi- 
ety, gratitude,  and  benevolence  have  been  gradually 
formed.       Their  attainments  in  pure  and  rational 

religion 


Serm.  XXXVIII.]  THE  supper:  45^ 

religion  have  been  eflentially  promoted  by  their  obe- 
dience to  the  dying  command  of  the  fon  of  God. 
And,  in  point  of  chriftian  virtue,  their  character  is 
far  more  fplendid,  than  it  would  have  been,  had  the 
table  been  neglefted. 

Let  me  recommend  their  example.    Or,  let  me  re- 
fer you  to  a  ftill  more  refpeclable  authority.     The 
example  of  the  apoftles  and  firft  Chriftians  will  cer- 
tainly have  weight  with  all,  who  profefs  their  reli- 
gion.    In  addition  to  thefe  perfuafives,  let  me  re- 
mind you  of  the  exprefs  command  of  your  great 
law-giver.     Think  how  gracioufly  he  condefcended, 
how  divinely  he  taught,  how  nobly  he  fuffered.     Re- 
member that  he  was  wounded  for  our  tranfgrellions, 
!  and  bruifed  for  our  iniquities  :    that  it  pleafed  God 
I  to  lay  on  him  the  iniquities  of  us  all.     Call  up  to 
I  view,  the  various  aifeding  circumftances  of  his  paf- 
1  fion.     And  with  mingled  forrow,  piety,  and  grati- 
!  tude,  approach  the  table.     Remember  that  you  are 
I  all  members  of  one  religious  family.     At  this,  and 
!  all  times,  may  your  hearts  overflow  with  love  one  to 
I  another.     So  will  your  prayers  be  heard,  and  your 
I  thankfgivings  accepted,    through  Jefus   Chrift,    to 
I  whom  be  everlafting  honours. 


^tvmn 


4iS  FAMILY  WORSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXXIX, 


)eniiou  XXXIX. 


Family  Worfhip; 
Psalm  xcii.  2. 

**  TO  SHEW  FORTH  THY  LOVING-KINDNESS  EVERY 
MORNING  J  AND  THY  FAITHFULNESS,  EVERY 
NIGHT.'* 

TO  form  a  jufl  idea  of  the  fublime  pleafures, 
and  real  advantages  of  devotion,  we  muft  have 
been  accuftomed  to  its  facred  duties.  So  tranfcen- 
dent  are  the  joys  of  piety,  and  fo  important  the 
moral  influence  of  its  public  and  private  offices,  that 
experience  will  far  furpafs  the  moft  animated  de- 
fcription.  It  is,  however,  poffible  to  give  fome  ac- 
count of  the  nature,  the  pleafures,  and  the  effefts  of 
true  devotion  ;  and  to  fliow  how  much  they  lofe, 
who  negleft  prayer  ;  and  have  not  God  in  all  their 
thoughts.  That  there  are  too  many  of  this  defcrip- 
tion  ;  too  many  who  never  approach  the  altar  o£ 
God  ;  too  many  who  practically  fay,  "  what  profit 
fliall  we  have  if  we  pray  unto  him,"  is  a  moft  dif- 
couraging  truth.  The  public  offices  of  devotion  are 
reluclantly  obferved  :  and  thofe  of  a  private  and 
domeftic  nature  are  flill  more  neglected. 

The  feparation  of  one  day  from  feven,  and  iti^ 
confecration  to  God  and  religion,  have  received  the 
approbation  of  the  wifeft  and  beft  men.  Unbelievers 
have  pronounced  it  an  excellent  political  regulation  j 
and  upon  this  principle,  they  have  appeared  as  advo- 
cates 


SeRM.  XXXIX.]  IfAMILV   WORSHIP.  457 

cates  for  a  fufpenfioli  of  labour  on  the  Lord*s-day. 
They  have  even  contributed  to  the  fupport  of  public 
worfhip,  from  a  conviction  that  fociety  derived  ma- 
ny advantages  from  the  joint  devotions  and  religious 
intercourfe  of  its  members.  Chriftians  have  aded 
from  fuperior  motives.  They  have  turned  afide 
from  their  labours  and  pleafures,  and  have  confe- 
crated  themfelves  to  religious  duties,  becaufe  they 
conceived  fuch  an  intermiffion  of  worldly  concerns 
to  be  the  will  of  God  ;  becaufe  humanity  to  the 
lower  creation  requires  fuch  a  portion  of  time  for 
the  re-animation  of  their  fpirits  j  and  becaufe  the 
natural  and  moral  exigencies  of  man  concur  in  the 
demand.  Influenced  by  thefe  confiderations,  they 
have  vifited  the  houfe  of  God,  and  encompaffed  his 
altar,  in  that  facred  feafon,  which  has  taken  place  of 
the  Jewifli  fabbath.  To  the  calls  of  bufmefsj  and  the 
folicitations  of  pleafure,  they  have  turned  a  deaf  ear  j 
becaufe  they  could  not  reconcile  a  compliance  with 
either  with  their  obligations  to  Jefus  Chrift,  and  with 
the  neceffity  there  is,  that  they,  who  have  any  re- 
gard to  the  public  morals,  fliould  fet  a  good  example. 

But  the  Lord's-day  is  not  the  only  feafon  for  the 
offices  of  piety,  nor  the  church  the  only  place  where 
they  are  to  be  performed.  Our  places  of  retirement, 
and  our  families,  lliould  be  witnelfes  of  our  devo- 
tion ',  and  it  Ihould  be  our  conftant  pradice,  to 
"  fliew  forth  the  loving-kindnefs  of  God  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  his  faithfulnefs,  every  night."  The  exam- 
pie  of  the  pfalmift  inculcates  this  leflbn  ;  and  it  is 
enforced  by  numberlefs  confiderations,  fome  of  which 
will  offer  themfelves  in  the  profecution  of  this  dif^ 
courfe. 

"  The  loving-kindnefs  of  God,  every  morning  j 

and  his  faithfulnefs,  every  night,"  are  matters  of  ex- 

K  k  k  perience. 


45^  FAMILY    WOPv-SHIF.  [SeRM.  XXXI^« 

perience.  As  often  as  we  rife  from  our  pillows,  we 
muft,  if  we  properly  refleft,  view  ourfelves  ubjeds 
of  his  preferving  care  ;  and  monuments  of  his  good- 
nefs.  It  is  God,  who  hath  made  us  to  lie  down  in 
fafety.  During  the  defencelefs  hours  of  the  night, 
his  fatherly  arm  was  under  our  heads,  and  his  provi- 
dence, our  protection.  It  was  he,  who  gave  fleep  to 
our  eyes  ;  and  caufed  our  flumbers  to  be  grateful 
and  refrefliing.  It  was  God  who  preferved  our  hab- 
itations from  deftruction,  and  our  fouls  from  death. 
His  ever-watchful  eye  was  upon  us  ;  and  his  almighty 
arm  defended  us  from  every  accident,  to  which  our 
perfons,  and  our  fubftance  were  expofed.  Thefe  are 
truths,  againft  which  no  reafonable  objection  can  be 
urged.  The  doctrine  of  a  particular  providence  in- 
cludes all  the  fads,  which  I  have  here  flated»  They 
are  a  juft  inference  from  thofe  words  of  the  apoftle, 
*'  in  him  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being." 

Hence  the  confidence,  expreffed  by  good  men,  in 
the  prefence  of  God  during  the  night  feafon,  and  the 
fpecial  protedion  afforded  to  his  creatures  in  the 
hour  of  repofe.  The  pfalmift  fays,  "  I  will  lay  me 
down  in  peace,  and  lleep  ;  for  thou.  Lord,  only 
makefl  me  to  dwell  in  fafety."  Again,  "  I  laid  me 
down,  and  flept  ;  I  awaked,  for  the  Lord  fuftained 
me."  And  addreiling  himfelf  to  Job,  Zophar  affures 
him,  "  thou  {halt  lie  down,  and  none  fhall  make  thee 
afraid."  In  thefe  pafTages,  we  have  the  fentiments 
of  the  wife  and  good,  relative  to  the  fubjed  before 
us  ;  and  we  perceive  how  much  fatisfadion  they  de- 
rived from  the  convidion  that  the  moft  high  is  ever 
awake  ;  ever  prefent  with  his  creatures  ;  and  when 
they  are  leaft  capable  of  providing  for  their  own 
lafety,  that  his  providence  is  employed  in  their  pro* 
tedion. 

Mercies, 


S£RM.  XXXIX.]]  FAMILY  WORSHIP;  459 

Mercies,  with  which  we  are  familiar,  feldom 
kad  up  our  thoughts  to  their  glorious  author.  The 
conftant  ftream  of  divine  goodnefs  flows  on  unob- 
ferved.  Hence  the  neceility  of  reminding  us,  that 
the  falvation  of  every  fucceffive  night  is  the  work  of 
our  heavenly  father.  The  providence  of  God  is  as 
certainly  exercifed  over  us,  when  reclining  on  our 
pillow,  and  compofed  to  reft,  as  in  the  moft  perilous 
fituation.  And  that  our  fleep  has  not  terminated 
in  death,  is  to  be  afcribed,  no  lefs  in  one  cafe  than 
the  other,  to  his  infinite  benevolence.  The  loving- 
kindnefs  of  God  is  therefore  new  upon  us  every 
morning.  And  the  firft  beam  of  light,  that  meets 
our  eyes,  fliould  remind  us  of  him,  who  is  the  father 
of  lights  ;  and  from  whom  cometh  down  every 
temporal  and  fpiritual  bleffing. 

But  the  approaching  fhades  of  night  are  not  lefs 
iiiftru<^ive  than  the  fplendor  of  a  new  day.  If  the 
morning  fuggefts  to  us  the  loving-kindnefs  of  the 
Lord,  we  are  reminded  of  his  faithfulnefs  every 
night.  It  is  not  uncommon  with  oriental  writers 
to  afcribe  to  one  attribute  that,  which  arifes  from 
the  joint  operation  of  one  with  more  of  the  divine 
perfedions.  This  is  the  cafe  in  the  words  before  us. 
The  faithfulnefs  of  God  is  Angled  out,  as  the  proper 
fubjed  of  our  evening  celebration.  But  his  wifdom, 
power,  and  goodnefs  have  all  been  difplayed  in  the 
courfe  of  the  day.  As  often  as  we  retire  to  reft, 
we  may  view  ourfelves  as  monuments  of  his  guard- 
ian care  and  protedlion.  His  wifdom  has  guided  us 
amid  innumerable  dangers  :  his  arm  has  rcfcued 
us  from  deftrudion  :  his  bounty  has  fupplied  our 
wants.  Under  the  guardianfliip  of  our  heavenly 
father,  we  have  purfued  our  lawful  bufinefs  ;  and  his 
goodnefs  has  bleffed  the  labour  of  our  hands.   In  our 

going 


/}.5o  FAMILY  WORSHIP*  [SeRM.  XXXiX. 

going  out,  and  coming  in,  we  have  experienced  his 
faithfulnefs.  He  has  continued  to  us  our  reafon  ;  and 
upheld  us  in  its  exercife.  Our  table  has  been  fpread 
with  his  ftores  ;  our  cup  has  been  replenifhed  by  his 
munificence ;  and  his  invifible,  but  unremitted  ener- 
gy has  caufed  our  garments  to  be  a  grateful  covering, 
and  our  food  effedual  to  our  fubfiftence.  That  we 
are  alive,  when  the  day  is  gone  ;  that  we  have  our 
friends  about  us  ;  that  we  are  encompaffed  by  our 
domeftic  circle  j  that  ,we  have  the  profpedl  of  refting 
from  Qur  labours,  and  gaining  new  fpirits  againft  the 
return  of  our  accuftomed  duties,  are  bleffings,  which 
muft  be  referred  to  the  God  of  heaven.  Becaufe 
we  do  not  difcern  the  hand  which  beftows  them,  we 
are  not  to  fuppofe  that  they  flow  from  any  inferior 
fource. 

Thus,  my  chriftian  friends,  do  every  morning  and 
evening  furnifti  new  proofs  of  the  loving-kindnefs 
and  faithfulnefs  of  the  Lord.  To  adopt  the  language 
of  the  infpired  poet,  we  may  fay,  "  day  unto  day  ut- 
tereth  fpeech  :  and  night  unto  night  fhowcth  know- 
ledge." The  beginning  and  the  clofe  of  every  day 
teftify  the  benevolent  care  of  the  fupreme  being  ; 
and  fuggeft  to  us  the  propriety  of  raifmg  our  eyes 
and  voices  to  the  author  of  all  good. 

I  PROCEED,  therefore,  to  our  indifpenfable  obliga- 
tions to  render  to  God  our  devout  homage  at  thefe 
particular  feafons.  The  pfalmift  fays,  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  celebrate  the  divine  praifes,  when  fo  many 
circumftances  concur  to  remind  us  of  his  goodnefs. 
In  the  morning  we  Ihould  approach  the  God  of  hea- 
ven with  reverence  and  gratitude,  acknowledging  his 
loving-kindnefs,  and  profeiEng  our  earneft  delire  to 
retain  a  fenfe  of  his  mercy  through  the  courfe  of  the 
day.    Unfeignedly  Ihould  we  thank  him  for  preferv- 

ing 


SeRM.  XXXIX.]  FAMILY    WORSHIP.  461 

ing  our  lives  from  the  evil,  which  walketh  in  dark- 
xiefs,  and  for  the  renovation  of  our  ftrength  and 
fpirits.  That  we  behold  the  light,  and  experience 
the  falvation  of  another  day,  we  Ihould  devoutly  af- 
cribe  to  his  forbearance  and  mercy.  The  acknow- 
ledgment of  our  obligations  to  God,  ihould  be  ac- 
companied with  the  confeffion  of  our  unworthinefs 
of  his  favours.  And  our  devotions  lliould  include 
the  moft  fervent  prayer,  that  we  may  live  anfwerably 
to  the  benefits  which  we  have  received,  and  our  ob- 
ligations to  that  infinitely  benevolent  being,  who  has 
conferred  them  upon  us.  Our  prefervation  from 
every  falfe  and  evil  way,  fuccefs  in  our  lawful  under- 
takings, the  fupply  of  our  wants,  and  a  blefllng  on 
thofe,  with  whom  we  are  particularly  conne6led,  are 
proper  fubjecEts  of  prayer.  When  we  alk  thefe  mer- 
cies, and  make  our  acknowledgments  for  thofe  al- 
ready conferred,  we  acl  in  charafter,  as  dependent 
beings.  Nature  teaches  us  to  begin  the  day  with 
thefe  exprefilons  of  unfeigned  gratitude,  and  with 
thefe  humble  fupplications. 

But,  if  we  celebrate  the  loving-kindnefs  of  God 
in  the  morning,  we  fliould  not  forget  his  faithfulnefs 
every  night.  Before  we  retire  to  reft,  we  are  in 
duty  bound  to  thank  him  for  his  mercies  ;  and  to 
commend  ourfelves  to  his  latherly  care.  That  an- 
other day  has  been  added  to  our  lives  ;  that  we  have 
efcaped  the  various  accidents  to  which  we  are  con- 
tinually expofed  ;  that  we  have  been  able  to  profe» 
cute  our  temporal  concerns  ;  that  we  have  experi^ 
enced  fo  many  comforts  and  bleffings,  are  proper 
fubjecls  of  thankfgiving.  And  it  fliould  infpire  us 
with  the  warmeft  gratitude,  if,  upon  a  review  of  our 
behaviour,  we  ftand  acquitted  of  any  falfe  and  dif- 
honourable  pradices.    For  it  cannot  be  denied,  that 

the 


4^2  FAMILY   WORSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXXiX. 

the  preferver  of  our  lives  Is  alfo  the  guardian  of  our 
innocence.  And  how  great  are  our  obligations  to 
him,  through  whofe  kind  providence  we  have  not 
only  lived,  but  lived  foberly  and  virtuoully. 

We  fliould,  likewife,  commit  ourfelves  to  God, 
imploring  his  divine  protection,  through  the  night- 
feafon.  That  he  would  defend  us  from  evil,  and 
grant  us  the  bleffing  of  quiet  repofe  ;  that  he  would 
favour  us  with  the  light  of  another  day,  and  enable 
tis  to  renew  our  labours  in  health  and  peace,  are  pe- 
titions, which  we  may  decently  prefer.  They  have 
the  fandion  of  religion.  And  offered  in  his  name, 
who  has  faid,  "  afk,  and  ye  fhall  receive  ;  feek,  and 
ye  fhall  find,"  they  will  not  be  rejeded. 

Thus  have  I  confidered  our  daily  obligations  to 
the  bell  of  beings  ;  the  feafons,  at  which  we  are  par- 
ticularly reminded  of  them,  and  the  ads  of  devo- 
tion becoming  thofe  feafons.  From  the  time,  I  pro- 
ceed to  the  place,  in  which  thefe  ads  fhould  be 
performed.  And,  according  to  the  diredion  of  our 
Saviour,  we  fliould  pray  to  our  father  in  fecret.  The 
fon  of  God  both  inculcated  and  pradifed  this  duty. 
He  often  retired  from  his  difciples,  that  he  might, 
without  interruption,  and  with  facred  fervour,  ex- 
prefs  his  defires  to  the  bleffed  God.  And  as  he  prac- 
tifed,  fo  he  taught,  "  but  thou,  when  thou  prayeft, 
enter  into  thy  clofet  ;  and,  when  thou  haft  fliut  thy 
door,  pray  to  thy  father,  which  is  in  fecret ;  and 
thy  father,  which  feeth  in  fecret,  fliall  reward  thee 
openly." 

There  is,  then,  the  utmoft  propriety  in  private 
acknowledgments,  and  private  fupplications  to  our 
bountiful  parent.  Our  place  of  retirement  fliould 
be  confecrated  by  our  morning  and  evening  devo- 
tions.   When  we  rife,  we  fliould  render  our  private 

homage 


SERM.  XXXIX.]  FAMILY    WORSHIP.  46^ 

homage  to  him,  whofe  loving-kindncfs  has  been  our 
prefervation.  And  previoufly  to  our  accuftomed 
repofe,  we  fhould  as  privately  recount  his  mercies, 
and  afk  his  protedion.  Retired  from  human  view, 
we  cannot  plead,  that  we  want  words  to  exprefs  our 
wants,  or  confidence  to  utter  them.  The  embar- 
ralTment  experienced  in  a  more  public  fituation,  will 
not  prevent  the  decent  and  folemn  performance  of 
this  duty. 

A  CELEBRATED  philofoplicr  of  antiquity  enjoined 
upon  his  difciples,  a  folemn  review  of  their  adions 
at  the  commencement  and  termination  of  each  day. 
Agreeably  to  his  direction,  they  repaired  fingly  to 
fome  folitary  mountain  or  foreft,  and  there  converfed 
with  themfelves.  The  fubjeds  of  this  converfation 
were  mercies  received,  and  duties  to  be  performed. 
This  was  the  employment  of  the  morning  ;  and, 
thus  fortified  by  meditation,  they  engaged  in  the 
more  active  duties  of  the  day.  As  the  day  began,  fo 
Tt  clofed  with  felf-examination.  And  the  pra<5lice 
was  juftified  by  its  effects  ;  for  it  produced  fome  of 
the  beft  charaders  in  the  heathen  world.  The  au- 
thor of  this  inflitution  was  Pythagoras,  who  lived  fix 
hundred  years  before  the  birth  of  our  Saviour. 

But  that,  which  the  difciples  of  this  philofopher 
did  in  obedience  to  their  mailer,  we  ought  to  do 
from  a  principle  of  refped  to  Jefus  Chrift.  In  con- 
formity to  the  laws  of  his  religion,  and  in  imitation 
of  his  example,  we  ought  to  retire  for  the  purpofes  of 
felf-examination,  meditation,  and  prayer.  Steady 
and  perfevering  in  this  pradice,  our  piety  will  be 
amply  rewarded.  Doing  homage  to  God,  we  Ihall 
do  honour  to  ourfelves,  and  take  the  mod  effedual 
meafures  for  our  improvement. 

Private  acknowledgments  to  the  moft  high,  and 

private 


4^4  FAMILY   WORSHIP.  [SeRM.  XXXiX. 

|)rivate  fupplications  for  the  continuance  of  his  mer- 
cies, are  not,  however,  the  only  duties  fuggefted  in 
the  text.  Social  a<^s  of  devotion,  particularly  thofc 
in  which  a  family  can  engage,  are  inculcated  in  the 
words  before  us.  In  every  houfe,  where  the  divine 
authority  of  the  chriflian  religion  is  admitted,  an  al- 
tar fhould  be  raifed  ;  and  the  morning  and  evening 
facrifice  fhould  be  offered.  This  was  the  conftant 
practice  of  the  primitive  Chriftians  ;  and  it  muft  ap- 
prove itfelf  to  the  judgment  of  all,  who  confider  how 
much  ftrefs  is  laid  on  devotion  by  our  bleffed  Sa- 
viour. As  man  is  a  focial  being,  focial  worfliip  is 
accommodated  to  the  principles  of  his  nature  ;  and 
it  is  moreover  fubfervient  to  his  pleafure  and  im- 
provement. Family  worihip  has,  therefore,  unan- 
fwerable  arguments  in  its  favour. 

But  as  this  duty  has  fallen  into  general  contempt, 
it  may  be  proper  to  enlarge  on  the  fubje^t.  It  is  in- 
cumbent on  every  man  to  promote  the  bcft  intereft 
of  thofe,  whom  God  has  committed  to  his  care. 
His  obligation  to  feed,  clothe,  and  protect  them,  is 
never  called  in  queftion.  But  equally  unqueftionable 
muft  be  his  obligation  to  cultivate  their  morals,  and 
form  them  to  wifdom  and  virtue. 

Now  the  oiEces  of  devotion,  regularly  performed  in 
any  family,  are  highly  fubfervient  to  thefe  purpofes. 
They  tend  to  confirm  thofe  fentiments  of  piety,  and 
to  revive  thofe  imprejQions  of  the  Deity,  which 
would  otherwife  be  effaced  by  the  bufinefs  or  pleaf- 
ures  of  life.  To  roufe  the  attention,  it  is  neceffary 
to  Ihift  the  fcene.  Converfant,  as  we  generally  are, 
with  fenfible  objeds,  there  is  the  utmoft  danger  of 
our  lofing  all  relifh,  not  to  fay,  all  recolIe<5lion  of 
heavenly  objeds.  But  prayer,  at  ftated  feafons,  will 
not  fuffer  the  mind  to  be  abfolutely  inattentive  to  its 

glorious 


SeRM.  XXXIX.]  FAMILY   WORSHIP.  4.6$ 

"glorious  author.  It  will  bring  his  character  daily  in- 
to view.  It  will  force  thofe,  who  unite  in  it,  to  re- 
.  colleft  that  there  is  a  God.  And  as  far  as  the  recol- 
iedion  will  operate  as  a  moral  reftraint,  it  will  Ihow 
the  importance  of  this  religious  duty. 

If,  then,  domeftic  order  be  a  bleiling ;  if  a  perfon, 
prefiding  over  a  family,  would  have  his  children 
dutiful,  and  the  inferior  members  of  his  houfehold, 
obedient ;  if  he  would  have  the  fmall  community,  o£ 
which  he  has  the  charge,  a  credit  to  him,  he  will  not 
fail  to  condud  his  dependants,  of  every  defcription, 
to  the  throne  of  God.  It  is  true,  the  influencG  of  the 
world  may  overrule  and  defeat  the  influence  of  devo- 
tion. But  it  is  not  lefs  true,  that  the  tendency  o£ 
fuch  a  practice,  as  I  am  now  recommending,  is  the 
religious  improvement,  and  domeflic  happinefs  of  all 
who  engage  in  it. 

Further — It  is  not  unreafonable  to  fuppofe,  that 
the  united  prayers  of  a  chriftian  family  may  be 
attended  with  a  fpecial  bleffing.  The  efficacy  of 
prayer,  to  procure  the  favours  defired,  is  a  dodrine 
of  the  gofpel.  God  may  .fee  fit,  in  confequence  of 
united  addrelTes  and  acknowledgments,  to  beftow 
that,  which  he  would  otherwife  have  with-held. 
"  Alk,  and  receive,'*  is  the  language  of  our  Saviour. 
And  it  is  the  obfervation  of  an  infpired  apoftle,  "  ye 
have  not,  becaufe  ye  afk  not."  The  immediate  ef- 
ficacy concurs,  therefore,  with  its  moral  tendency, 
to  enforce  this  particular  office  of  piety. 

You  perceive,  then,  how  reafonable  it  is  in  itfelf, 
that  the  altar  fhould  blaze  with  daily  offerings  ;  and 
that  private  and  domeftic  devotion  fliould  kindle 
the  flame.  And  ought  not  your  convictions  to  in- 
fluence your  pradice  ?  Ought  not  every  man,  who 
believe^  in  a  God,  .and  acknowiedges  a  faviour,  to 
L 11  approach 


466  FAMILY  WORSHIP.         [Serm.  XXXIX. 

approach  the  former,  in  the  name,  and  through  the 
mediation  of  the  latter  ;  to  exprefs  his  gratitude 
with  fervour,  and  his  wants  with  humility  ?  Can  a 
Chriftian  reconcile  it  to  his  confcience,  to  his  reafon, 
to  his  religious  principles,  to  fufFer  one  day  to  pafs  • 
without  railing  his  thoughts  to  heaven  ;  and  doing 
homage  to  his  benefador  ?  Why  ihould  any  man  be 
afhamed  to  veftify  his  reverence  of  God  5  his  grati- 
tude, his  fubmiilion,  his  confidence  in  the  divine 
government,  and  his  hopes  from  the  divine  favour  ? 
Why  fliould  any  perfon  be  alhamed  to  repair  to  the 
beft  of  beings,  for  mercies,  which  he  only  can  be- 
llow ?  We  need  no  inducements  to  afk  of  our 
earthly  parents,  thofe  things  which  are  convenient 
for  us  :  why,  then,  fliould  we  need  fo  many  perfua* 
,  Sons  to  exprefs  our  wants  to  our  father  who  is  in 
heaven  ?  We  thank  our  earthly  benefadors  :  and 
why  fhould  we  not  give  thanks  to  God,  to  whom 
we  are  under  fo  many  obligations  ?  Why  fliould  we 
be  afliamed  of  religion,  or  any  of  its  duties  or  offices  ? 
Among  the  heathen,  princes,  heroes,  and  ftatefmen, 
did  not  blufli  to  do  homage  to  thofe  whom  they  ef- 
teemed  gods.  And  fiiall  Chriftians,  fliall  any,  who 
believe  the  g.ofpel,  be  backward  in-  rendering  thofe 
fpiritual  facrifices,  which  the  gofpel  requires  ?  It  is 
either  a  very  falfe  modefty,  or  a  very  great  coldnefs 
to  religion,  or  a  very  falfe  view  of  it,  which  has  pro- 
duced fuch  a  negled  of  family  devotion. 

To  thofe  who  are  convinced  of  the  truth,  and 
who  feel  a  reverence  for  Ghriflianity,  let  me  warmly 
recommend  this,  and  every  office  of  piety.  Say  with 
the  pfalmift,  "  every  day  will  I  blefs  thee  ;  and  I 
will  praife  thy  name  for  ever  and  ever."  By  your 
pradice  fliow,  that  you  are  fenfible  of  the  "  loving* 
kindnefs  of  God  in  the  morning,  and  his  faithfulnefe 

every 


SfiRM.  XL.]  FUNERAL    OCCASIOM,  A<Sf 

every  night  ;"  and  that  you  efteem  the  daily  cele- 
bration of  his  goodnefs  a  becoming,  and  an  honour- 
able exercife  of  your  rational  powers.  By  fuch  a 
fteady  difcharge  of  the  offices  of  devotion,  your  faith 
will  be  confirmed,  and  your  religious  principles  will 
be  kept  in  exercife.  You  will  find  an  increafing 
pleafure  in  all  the  duties  of  religion.  And  you  will 
be  qualified  to  unite  with  fuperior  beings,  in  cele- 
brating the  divine  praifes,  when  the  diftindion  of 
day  and  night,  morning  and  evening,  ihall  be  no 
more. 


sermon  XL. 


Funeral  Occafion, 

ECCLESIASTES    XII.    5. 

**  MAN    GOETH    TO    HIS   LONG    HOME  ;     AND  THI 
MOURNERS    GO   ABOUT   THE    STREETS." 

SCARCELY  does  an  objca:  prefent  itfelf  among 
the  works  of  nature,  or  an  event  take  place  in 
the  courfe  of  divine  providence,  from  which,  if  prop- 
erly difpofed,  we  may  not  learn  a  leffon  of  wifdom. 
It  is  the  privilege  of  man  to  be  able  to  make  ufeful 
refledions  on  every  thing  which  occurs.  And  it  is 
the  honour  of  fome,  to  become  wifer  and  better  by 
every  difpenfation,  whether  merciful  or  afiliclive ; 

mi 


468  FUNEllAL  OCCASION.  JjSerj^.XL* 

and  by  every  viciffitude,  whether  in  their  own  cir« 
cumftances  or  thofe  of  their  neighbour. 

But  though  all  nature  is  full  of  inftrudion,  yet 
there  are  fcenes  and  places,  particularly  favourable  to 
moral  improvement.  There  are  events,  which  deepf 
!y  afFed  the  heart.  There  are  objeds,  in  which  wif- 
dom  loudly  cries  ;  and  underftanding  utters  a  moft 
commanding  voice  ;  objed:s  which  teach  us  what  we 
are,  and  what  we  may  exped ;  objeds  which  pro- 
claim this  mortifying  truth,  that  we  "dwell  in  houfes 
of  clay,  whofe  foundation  is  in  the  duft  ;  and  which 
are  cruflied  before  the  moth.  You  will  eafily  con- 
ceive, that  I  now  allude  to  the  fcene  drawn  in  the 
text  :  "  Man  goeth  to  his  long  home  ;  and  the 
mourners  go  about  the  ftreets.'* 

These  words  are  admirably  introduced  by  the 
wife  moralifto  His  difcourfe  begins  with  an  earneft 
recommendation  of  early  piety.  To  give  weight  to 
his  counfels  and  exhortations,  he  carries  his  hearer 
forward  to  a  time,  when  he  would  lofe  all  relifh  for 
the  inferior  pleafures  of  fenfe.  The  various  infirmi- 
ties and  miferies  of  old  age  are  then  defcribed. — • 
And,  at  length,  the  grave  is  difplayed  ;  and  the  dead 
are  reprefented  as  receiving  the  laft  offices  of  their 
furviving  friends.  Every  part  of  the  difcourfe  is 
worthy  of  our  attention.  It  cannot  be  perufed 
without  admiration  of  the  author  ;  and  without 
fome  very  folemn  reflexions  on  human  life,  and  the 
inevitable  deftiny  of  man. 

To  turn  this  fragment  of  ancient  wifdom  to  our 
advantage,  I  fhall  inquire,  how  we  ought  to  be  affed- 
ed  ;  what  inferences  we  Ihould  draw  ;  what  obfer- 
vations  we  fliould  make  ;  what  refolutions  we  Ihould 
form  :  in  a  word,  what  truths  we  ftiould  learn,  when 
we  pay  a  vifit  to  the  grave  j  and  accompany  the 
mourners  about  the  ftreets.  First 


Serm.  XL.J  funeral  occasion,  4691 

First — Objefts  and  icenes  of  fo  melancholy  ^ 
caft  naturally  remind  us  of  the  introdudlon  of  death, 
and  its  univerfal  dominion  over  the  human  kind. 
The  believer  in  divine  revelation  is  carried  back  to 
the  time,  when  one  fatal  ad  of  difobedience  expofed 
the  offenders  to  the  righteous  difpleafure  of  God  ^ 
and  fubjeded  their  pofterity  to  labour,  forrow,  and 
death.  The  fentence,  "  duft  thou  art,  and  unto  duft 
fhalt  thou  return,"  will  be  recollected  at  fuch  a  mo- 
ment. And  the  ferious  mind  will  unavoidably  fall 
into  the  following  reflections  :  How  myfterious  arc 
the  difpenfations  of  God  ;  how  infcrutable  his  mea- 
fures,  in  refpect  to  the  human  race  !  Scarcely  were 
their  firft  parents  introduced  to  life,  before  they  for- 
feited that  blelling,  And  how  many  evils  have 
flowed  from  their  prefumption  !  How  many  briars 
and  thorns  have  infefted  the  earth,  in  tefl:imony  of 
the  divine  difpleafure  at  moral  evil  !  How  much  toil 
have  the  children  of  men  endured  ;  how  many  pains 
have  they  felt  ;  how  many  tears  have  they  fhed  5 
how  many  terrors  have  they  experienced  ;  and  how 
many  triumphs  have  they  furniflied  to  the  great  de- 
fl:royer  !  Infinite  wifdom  cannot  err  ;  and  infinite 
goodnefs  cannot  do  wrong.  Still,  to  human  view, 
jt  mufl;  appear  myfterious,  that  one  act  of  difobe- 
dience fliould  fubjed  the  whole  rational  creation  to 
vanity.  The  fad,  however,  is  inconteftable  :  Reve- 
lation, therefore,  muft  come  to  our  relief ;  and  the 
^vent  mufl:  juftify  the  divine  proceedings  towards 
the  race  of  men,  and  their  offending  progenitors.- 
Is  it  not  conceivable,  that  the  palling  remains  of  a 
neighbour  or  friend,  the  attending  mourners,  and 
the  flow  proceflion,  may  awaken  refle(^ions  of  this 
nature  in  a  mind  accuftomed  to  religious  fpecula- 
tions  ?   Do  I  not,  at  this  time,  addrefs  fome,  who 

have 


47<5  FUNERAL   OCCASION.  [SiRM.  XL» 

have  entertained  thefe  thoughts  ?  Have  you  not  all, 
at  certain  moments,  been  aflfeded  in  the  manner 
which  I  have  briefly  defcribed  ? 

Secondly — The  laft  offices  paid  to  the  deceafed, 
naturally  call  our  refledions  to  the  furviving  friends  ; 
and  lead  us  to  confider  the  lofs  fuftained,  and  the 
mifery  produced,  by  fuch  a  bereavement.  It  is  not 
always  the  cafe,  that  the  moft  ufeful  are  continued 
longeft  in  this  world.  So  far  from  it,  we  often  be- 
hold the  moft  adive  members  of  fociety  fuddenly 
removed  ;  and  length  of  days  conferred  on  thofe, 
who  live  to  no  valuable  purpofe.  How  often  is  the 
parent  taken  from  a  numerous  and  dependent  fam- 
ily ?  How  often  do  we  difcern  among  the  vidims 
of  death,  the  child,  whofe  induftry  fupported,  and 
whofe  filial  piety  was  the  confolation  of  an  aged  pa- 
rent ?  How  often  do  the  benefadors  of  the  poor 
and  miferable  find  an  early  grave  ?  How  often  are 
the  bands  of  a  ftrid  and  virtuous  friendftiip  broken 
by  death  ?  How  often  does  the  godly  man  ceafe, 
whilft  the  impious  are  fpared  ;  and  whilft  the  work- 
ers of  iniquity  are  left  to  profecute  their  wicked  de- 
figns,  how  often  do  the  faithful  fail  from  among  the 
children  of  men  !  What  is  more  common,  than  to 
fee  this  apparent  inverfion  of  the  order  of  provi* 
dence  ?  It  is  a  remark,  which  every  perfon  of  ferious 
obfervation  has  had  frequent  occafion  to  make. 

Beholding,  then,  the  doors  of  the  tomb  difplay- 
ed,  and  the  mourners  going  about  the  ftreets,  who 
would  not  advert  to  the  forrows  endured  by  furviv- 
ing friends  ?  Who  would  not  think,  with  generous 
commiferation,  of  the  fighs,  which  have  proceeded 
from  their  bofoms  j  of  the  tears,  which  have  fallen 
from  their  eyes  ;  of  the  anguifli,  which  is  rending 
their  hearts  !  Who  would  not  call  up  to  view  all  the 

melancholv 


SeRM.  XLj  FUNERAL    OCCASION.  4ji 

melancholy  circumftances  eonneded  with  this  event  ? 
And,  partaking  of  the  forrows  of  thofe,  who  are  be- 
wailing their  lofs,  who  would  not  find,  that  it  is 
more  improving  to  vifit  the  honfe  of  mourning,  than 
the  houfe  of  feailing  ?  Who  would  not  alTent  to  the 
fage  obfervation,  that  forrow  is  better  than  laugh- 
ter ?  Who  wou>d  not  believe,  that  by  the  fadnefs  o£ 
the  countenance  the  heart  may  be  made  better  ? 

Thirdly — When  man  goeth  to  his  long  home, 
and  the  mourners  prefent  themfelves  in  the  ftreets, 
how  obvious  the  reflection,  that  yet  a  littie  while, 
and  we  muft  lie  down,  and  awake  not  till  the  hea- 
vens be  no  more  !  The  death  of  others  is  a  folemn 
intimation  of  our  own  mortality.  When  we  fee  a 
Chriftian,  whom  we  revered  ;  a  friend,  whom  we 
loved  j  a  neighbour,  with  whom  we  had  been  inti- 
mate ;  or,  indeed,  any,  with  whom  we  once  had 
the  flighteft  acquaintance,  committed  to  the  duft,  it 
is  very  natural  to  make  a  tranlition  to  our  own  ap- 
proaching fate.  The  mind  is  carried  forward  to  a 
time,  when  this  earthly  houfe  of  our  tabernacle  fliall 
be  fliaken  ;  when  the  aching  head,  and  fainting 
heart,  fliall  announce  our  danger  ;  when  the  fl5:ilful 
phyfician  fliall  confefs  the  vanity  of  his  fcience  ;— 
when  our  weeping  friends  and  relatives  fliall  anx- 
ioufly  furround  our  bed,  with  tears  refign  us  to  our 
fate,  or,  with  prayers,  implore  our  recovery  -,  when 
the  heart  fliall  dictate,  though  the  tongue  be  unabfe 
to  exprefs,  "  Lord  Jefus,  receive  our  fpirit  ;"  when 
fome  friendly  hand  fliall  clofe  our  eyes  ;  when  our 
neighbours  and  aflbciates  fliall  kindly  aflemble  to 
perform  the  lait  offices  ;  and  when  our  remains  fliall 
be  covered  with  the  earth,  there  to  fee  corruption. 
Thefe  fcenes  do  not  prefent  themielves  to  us  in  the 
walks  of  bufinefs  j  qx  when  hurried  round  in  the 

whirl 


47^  FUNERAL    OCCASION,  [SeRM.  XL, 

whirl  of  diflipation.  We  mtift  be  put  in  mind  of 
our  own  mortality  by  the  funeral  proceiTion,  or  a 
folemn  vifit  to  the  grave. 

BuT^  when  once  the  thoughts  have  taken  this  di- 
redion,  will  not  the  preparation,  neceffary  for  our 
own  change,  be  naturally  fuggefted  ?  "Will  not  every 
fcrious  perfon  commune  with  his  own  heart,  and 
fay,  muft  I  become  the  fame  fpedlacle,  which  is  now 
before  my  eyes  ?  Mull  I  alfo  go  the  way,  whence  I 
fhall  not  return  ?  Muft  thefe  eyes  be  clofed  in  night  j 
muft  all  my  purpofes  be  broken  off,  even  the  thoughts 
of  my  heart  ?  Muft  I  go  to  my  long  home  ;  and 
have  no  more  any  portion  forever  in  any  thing, 
which  is  done  under  the  fun  ?  Then,  *'  teach  me,  O 
my  creator,  fo  to  number  my  days,  that  I  may  apply 
my  heart  unto  wifdom.'*  May  I  feel  an  habitual 
convi6lion,  that  this  is  only  an  introduction  to  ex- 
iftence.  Born  to  die,  may  I  conftantly  keep  in  view 
my  laft  end.  And  as  becomes  a  Chriftian,  may  I 
have  my  conver£ition  in  heaven,  whence  I  look  for 
the  Lord  Jefus,  who  died  that  I  might  live ;  and  who 
became  mortal,  that  I  might  put  on  immortality. 

Fourthly — The  interment  of  a  friend  will,  if 
we  properly  reflect,  lead  us  to  fet  a  high  value  on 
the  gofpel ;  and  to  efteem  its  communications,  re- 
fpeding  futurity,  as  an  unfpeakable  blefling.  To 
abolilh  death,  and  bring  life  and  immortality  to 
light,  was  an  honour  referved  for  the  fon  of  God. 
His  benevolent  vilit  to  this  world,  and  his  triumphs 
over  the  grave,  have  afcertained  the  certainty  of  a 
future  ftate  ;  and  have  furniflied  convincing  evi- 
dence, that  the  diflblution  of  the  body  is  not  the  ex- 
tincHon  of  our  beinsr.  We  are  aflured,  that  the  fouls 
of  the  righteous  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord  ;  and 
that  he  will  reftore  that,  which  is  committed  to  him, 
at  the  great  day.  And 


SeRM.  XL.]       FUNERAL  OCCASION.         473 

And  how  grateful  ihould  we  be  for  this  difcovery, 
when  we  are  called  to  aflume  the  habit  of  mourners  ; 
and  to  perform  their  melancholy  oiEce  ?  If  we  had 
reafon  to  think,  that  there  would  be  no  releafe  from 
the  confinement  of  the  grave,  we  might  innocently 
indulge  our  forrows  ;  and  even  refufe  to  be  com- 
forted. By  what  arguments  could  our  fpirits  be 
fupported,  if  without  hope  beyond  the  hour  of 
death  ?  But  eternal  thanks  to  the  father  of  mercies, 
we  are  not  left  in  this  defpairing  condition.  The 
gofpel  has  revealed  to  us  the  path  of  life.  The  fon 
of  God  has  rifen  from  the  dead,  to  fatisfy  us,  that 
the  dodrine  of  a  refurredion  is  not  incredible.— 
And  inafmuch  as  he  now  lives  and  reigns,  we  may 
reft  affured,  that  he  will  raife  us  Up  at  the  laft  day. 
Philofophy  may  objed  ;  but  the  gofpel  bears  down 
every  objeftion. 

How  welcome,  then,  that  revelation,  which  pre- 
fents  thefe  profpects  ;  and  fupports  our  trembling 
hearts  with  thefe  difcoveries  ?  What  a  friend  to  the 
wretched  ;  what  a  cordial  to  the  mourner  !  How 
muft  it  exalt  our  ideas  of  the  chriftian  religion,  to 
find  it  fo  full  of  confolation  !  And  with  what  plea- 
fure  muft  we  repair  to  that  facred  volume,  in  which 
we  read,  "  as  in  Adam  all  die,  fo  in  Chrift  ftiall  all 
be  made  alive."  The  alTurance  that  "  the  hour  is 
coming,  when  all  who  are  in  their  graves  ftiall  hear 
the  voice  of  the  fon  of  God,  and  come  forth,"  muft 
difpofe  us  to  weep  as  though  we  wept  not  ;  and 
muft  reconcile  us  to  bereavements,  which  would 
otherwife  be  infupportable. 

And  when  the  number  of  our  friends  is  dlmin- 

ifiied  by  the  ravages  of  death,  do  we  not  fometimes 

find  relief  in  thefe  refledions  ?   Are  they  not  excited, 

when  we  behold  the  houfe  appointed  for  all  the  liv- 

M  m  m  ing  5 


474  FUNERAL  OCCASION.       [SeRM.  XL, 

ing  ;  and  fee  the  mourners  in  the  ftreets  ?  Can  the 
gloomy  objecls  before  our  eyes,  prevent  our  thoughts 
from  taking  their  flight  to  other  worlds,  and  dwell- 
ing on  brighter  fcenes  ?  No  :  it  is  natural  for  minds 
ferioufly  difpofed  to  rife  from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and 
to  make  an  excurfion  from  the  manfions  of  the  dead, 
to  the  glorious  manfions  provided  by  the  Saviour  ; 
and  where  he  is  now  waiting  to  receive  us. 

Fifthly — When  we  attend  the  remains  of  a 
friend  to  the  long  home,  and  unfeignedly  bewail  our 
lofs,  we  Ihould  derive  confolation  from  this  thought, 
that  no  fuch  bereavement  will  imbitter  our  future 
exiftence.  The  joys  of  heaven  are  not,  like  the  in- 
ferior pleafures  of  this  ftate,  liable  to  interruption. 
Far  from  it ;  they  are  pure  as  the  fource  from  which 
they  flow  ;  and  lafting  as  that  being,  who  has  prom- 
ifed  them  to  the  faithful  and  obedient.  The  hea- 
venly happinefs  is  thus  reprefented  by  the  prophet  : 
*'  And  he  fhowed  me  a  pure  river  of  water  of  life, 
clear  as  chryilal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of 
God,  and  of  the  lamb.  In  the  midft  of  the  ftreet  of 
it,  and  on  either  lide  of  the  river,  was  there  the  tree 
of  life,  which  bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  and 
yielded  her  fruit  every  month  ;  and  the  leaves  of 
the  tree  were  for  the  healing  of  the  nations.  And 
there  fliall  be  no  more  curfe."  In  another  place  we 
read,  "  and  God  ihall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes  ;  and  there  fliall  be  no  more  death,  neither 
forrow,  nor  crying,  nor  any  more  pain  ;  for  the 
former  things  have  pafled  away."  It  is  a  certain 
doctrine  of  the  gofpel,  that  heaven  is  a  region  of 
pure  and  uninterrupted  happinefs.  So  explicit  is 
revelation  on  this  fubjecl,  that  he,  who  believes  the 
gofpel,  muft  be  perfuaded  that  the  fincere  and  obedi- 
ent Chriilian  has  nothing  to  fear  beyond  this  life. 

When 


i 


SfiRM.XL.]  FUNERAL    OCCASION-  475 

When  he  joins  his  departed  friends,  he  will  dread  no 
reparation.  The  fecond  death  will  have  no  power, 
cither  over  him,  or  his  affociates  in  bleffednefs. 

And  is  not  this  a  mofl  confoling  reflection  to 
thofe,  who  are  paying  the  laft  attention,  which 
friendfhip  can  require  ?  How  natural  to  a  lincerc 
and  affectionate  mourner  to  fay  with  the  pfalmift, 
*'  why  art  thou  caft  down,  O  my  foul  ;  why  art 
thou  difquieted  within  me  ?"  How  obvious  the 
thought,  that  this  is  a  vale  of  tears  ;  and  that  it  is 
neceifary  our  hopes  fhould  be  difappointed,  and  our 
fouls  occalionally  pierced  with  many  forrows  ?  And 
how  comforting  the  aifurance,  that  the  fufferings  of 
the  prefent  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
the  glory  which  ihall  be  revealed  !  Is  it  poflible  that 
we  fhould  be  greatly  moved  by  any  misfortune, 
which  may  overtake  us  j  is  it  poffible  that  any  lofs 
fliould  make  a  lafling  impreffion  on  our  fpirits  j  is  it 
conceivable  that  we  Ihould  faint  under  any  adverfity, 
when  we  are  certain,  that  prefent  evils  are  temporary, 
but  the  future  good,  in  referve  for  us,  eternal  ! 

Sixthly — When  contemplating  the  objeds  ex- 
hibited in  the  text,  it  is  ufeful  to  inquire,  what  may 
be  learned  from  the  patient  fufferings,  the  adive 
virtues,  or  any  of  the  amiable  qualities  of  the  per- 
fon,  whom,  in  this  world,  we  Ihall  fee  no  more. 
Was  there  an  habitual  preparation  for  this  great  and 
awful  change  ?  Was  death  deflred,  or  was  it  dread- 
ed ?  Were  the  fufferings,  previous  to  it,  endured 
with  firmnefs  and  refignation  ?  Was  there  a  rational 
ground  to  hope  that  death  would  be  unfpeakable 
gain  ?  Thefe  inquiries,  if  anfwered  to  our  fatisfadion, 
Ihow  what  refolutions  we  fliould  form,  when  at- 
tending our  friends  to  the  filent  tomb.  We  fliould 
refolve  to  be  followers  of  them,  as  far  as  they  were 

followers 


476»  FUNERAL   OCCASION,,  [SeRM.  XL** 

followers  of  Jefus  Chrift.  We  Ihould  determine, 
with  the  divine  afliftance,  to  bear  affliction  with  their 
temper  ;  and  to  meet  death  with  their  confidence. 
In  a  word,  if  we  have  reafon  to  hope,  that,  through 
faith  and  patience,  they  inherit  the  promifes,  we 
Ihould  exprefs  our  regards,  not  by  lamenting  their 
departure,  but  by  copying  that  which  was  excellent 
in  their  charader. 

Finally^— As  often  as  we  fee  a  friend  going  to 
his  long  home,  and  obferve  the  mourners  in  the 
ftreets,  we  jSiould  be  reminded,  that  we  alfo  are  piU 
grims  and  ftrangers  ;  fliould  inquire  what  progrefs 
we  have  made  in  our  journey  ;  and  Ihould  afk  our 
hearts,  whether  we  fliould  be  rejoiced  or  alarmed, 
if  affured  that  the  hour  of  our  diflblution  had  come. 
What  can  be  fo  interefting  to  us,  as  a  preparation 
for  death,  whenever  it  fliall  pleafe  God  to  remove 
us  from  this  ftate  of  trial  ?  It  was  the  happinefs  of 
the  apoftle  to  be  able  to  fay,  "  I  am  now  ready  to  be 
offered  ;  and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand  : 
I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finifhed  my  courfe, 
I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth,  there  is  laid  up 
for  me  a  crown  of  righteoufnefs,  which  the  Lord, 
the  righteous  judge,  fliall  give  me  at  that  day  :.  and 
not  to  me  only,  but  to  all  thofe  who  love  his  appear- 
ing." May  a  firm  perfuafion  of  the  truth  and  ex- 
cellency of  the  chriftian  religion,  and  a  confcioufnefs 
that  we  have  earneftly  endeavoured  to  walk  accord- 
ing to  its  rules,  fortify  our  minds  againft  the  fears 
of  death  ;  and  enable  us  to  triumph  over  the  king 
of  terrors.  May  every  inftance  of  mortality,  of 
which  we  are  witneffes,  lead  us  to  contemplate  our 
own  diffolution.  And  more  efpecially,  when  any  of 
our  relatives  and  connexions  ;  any,  who  formed  a 
part  of  our  domeftic  circle  5  any,  whofe  ftudy  it  was 

to 


SeRM.  XL.J       FUNERAL  OCCASION.  477 

to  promote  our  intereft  and  happinefs  ;  any,  who 
aflumed  and  deferved  the  name  of  friend  ;  any, 
whom  we  ought  to  remember  with  afFe<^ion  and 
gratitude  ;  when  any  of  this  defcription  are  confign- 
ed  to  the  grave,  we  fliould  coniider  that  our  days 
are  an  hand-breadth,  and  our  age  nothing  before 
God  ;  that  we  muft  foon  follow  the  objeds,  whofe 
departure  we  deplore  ;  and  that  we  muft  appear 
with  them  before  a  righteous  judge. 

And  are  there  not  any  prefent,  to  whom  thefe 
counfels  are  applicable  ?  Are  there  not  perfons  in 
this  affembly,  who,  called  to  mourning  by  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  need  every  eonfolation,  which  religion 
can  give  ?  To  fuch,  let  me  fay^  "  in  this  world,  we 
are  deftined  to  tribulation  :"  but  "  be  of  good  cheer, 
Jefus  Chrift  has  overcome  the  world."  If  he  learned 
obedience  by  the  things  which  he  fufFered,  how 
much  more  do  we  need  this  falutary  difcipline  ! 
How  many  are  our  errors  ?  How  numerous  our 
faults  ?  How  inveterate  our  perverfenefs  ;  and  how 
aggravated  our  tranfgreflions  ?  How  many  moral 
diforders  have  we  all  to  be  cured  ?  And  how  far  are 
we  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  The  imperfedion 
of  our  characters  will  juftify  the  difcipline  of  God  j 
and  £how  us  the  neceffity  of  patience  and  fubmiffion. 

Wherefore,  let  thofe,  who  mourn,  remember  the 
defign  of  human  mifery  ;  and  fupprefs  every  hard 
thought  of  that  being,  in  whofe  hand  our  breath  is, 
and  whofe  are  all  our  ways.  Let  them  dwell  with 
rapture  on  that  day,  which  will  clear  up  the  difpen- 
fations  of  providence  ;  and  force  this  convidion  on 
every  mind,  that  nothing  can  be  wrong  under  the 
government  of  God.  Let  a  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  God  and  religion,  with  heaven  and  with 
duty,  derive  importance  from  our  prefent  fufferings. 

Then 


47S  THE  WOR©  [SeRM.  XLL 

Then  fhall  we  know  by  experience,  that  forrow  is 
better  than  laughter  ;  that  fcenes  of  diftrefs  are  more 
improving  than  fcenes  of  feftivity  ;  that  we  have 
learned  wifdom  at  the  tomb,  which  contains  the 
fleeping  duft  of  our  friends  ;  and  that  the  end  of  all 
has  been  properly  laid  to  heart  I 


The  following  were  the  two  lafl  Sermons,  which 
Dr,  Clarke  delivered* 


sermon  xli. 


The  Word  of  Truth. 
Ephesians  I.  13. 

■— "  THE   WORD   OF     TRUTH,     THE    GOSPEL    OF    YOUR 
SALVATION." 

IN  all  the  writings  of  the  evangellfts  and  apoftles, 
I  know  not  where  to  find  a  better  definition  of 
the  chrifliian  religion,  than  in  the  words  to  which  I 
have  invited  your  attention.  They  remind  us  both 
of  the  foundation,  and  the  defign  of  the  gofpel.-— 
They  fuggeft,  that  it  is  not  an  ingenious  fiction,  to 
which  our  faith  and  fubmillion  are  required.  And 
they  awaken  our  gratitude,  by  reminding  us  of  the 
good  tidings  contained  in  the  gofpel,  and  the  benev- 
olent end,  for  which  it  was  communicated  to  man- 
kind. 


SeRM.  XLI.3  OF    TRUTH.  475 

kind.  "  The  word  of  truth,  the  gofpel  of  falva- 
tion,"  are  terms,  which  exprefs  every  thing  honour- 
able in  refpeft  to  the  fyftem,  and  interefting  to  thofe 
who  receive  it. 

In  the  following  difeourfe,  I  fliall  endeavour  to  il« 
luftrate  this  brief  definition  of  the  chriflian  religion  ; 
and  ihall  then  point  out  the  duties  implied  in  it. 

*'  The  gofpel  of  our  falvation"  are  terms  moft 
happily  chofen  by  the  apoftle,  to  lead  us  to  juft  ideas 
of  the  chriflian  difpenfation.  The  literal  meaning  of 
the  term,  gofpel,  is  good  news.  And  what  news  can 
be  more  welcome  to  the  human  kind,  than  the  in- 
formation conveyed  by  the  Saviour,  and  preferved 
in  the  volume  of  revelation  ?  What  better  tidings 
could  we  hear,  than  that  there  is  forgivenefs  for  the 
penitent,  knowledge  for  the  ignorant,  afliflance  for 
the  weak,  comfort  for  the  diftreffed,  a  refurredioa 
for  all  who  are  fubjecl  to  death  ;  and  for  the  obe- 
dient, a  glorious  immortality  ?  Thefe  promifes,  and 
this  information,  being  contained  in  the  gofpel,  is 
not  a  term,  implying  good  news,  the  beft,  which 
could  have  been  devifed,  to  unfold  the  nature  and 
objedt  of  the  chriflian  inflitution  ? 

But  how  is  this  inflitution  the  gofpel  of  our  fal- 
vation  ?  To  this  I  anfwer,  firfl,  the  gofpel  is  a  clear 
difcovery  of  the  poflibility  of  falvation  ;  and  an  at 
furance,  that  fo  great  a  bleffing  is  actually  provided 
for  us  ?  Does  falvation  include  the  forgivenefs  o£ 
fin  ?  The  gofpel  abounds  with  promifes  of  pardon. 
To  what  part  of  the  chriflian  revelation  can  we  turn, 
without  meeting  with  this  animating  truth  ?  Can 
we  confult  the  difcourfes  of  our  Saviour,  and  be  ig- 
norant that  there  is  mercy  with  his  heavenly  father  ; 
and  that  it  will  be  exercifed  towards  all,  who  un- 
feignedly  repent  I  Can  we  liflen  to  an  apoflle,  with- 
out 


4^0  THE    WORD  CSeRM.  XLL 

out  learning  the  efficacy  of  repentance  ?  Can  we  at- 
tend to  fads  recorded  in  the  facred  pages,  and  not 
find  inftances  of  pardon  actually  difpenfed  ?  Is  there 
any  thing  in  the  writings  of  the  evangelifts  and 
apoftles,  any  parable,  any  expreffion,  from  which  it 
may  be  inferred  that  God  is  inexorable  ?  By  no 
means  :  it  is  as  clear  as  promifes,  and  as  fafts  can 
make  it,  that  there  is  forgivenefs  for  the  chief  of 
finners. 

Salvation  implying,  therefore,  the  remiffion  of 
fins,  however  numerous  and  aggravated,  we  muft 
admit  the  definition  in  the  text.  The  gofpel  of 
Chrift  is,  in  this  view,  good  tidings  of  falvation. 
And  for  this  reafon,  the  birth  of  its  founder  was 
announced  in  thefe  majeftic  ftrains  :  "  Behold,  I 
bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  fhall  be 
to  all  people."  For  the  fame  reafon,  the  heavenly 
hoft  were  heard,  praifing  God,  and  faying,  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  higheft,  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to 
men."  And  conformably  to  the  benevolent  defign 
of  his  religion,  the  Saviour  himfelf  faid  to  his  dif- 
ciples,  "  Bleffed  are  your  eyes,  for  they  fee,  and  your 
ears,  for  they  hear  :  for  verily,  I  fay  unto  you,  that 
many  prophets  and  righteous  men  have  defired  to 
fee  thofe  things,  which  ye  fee,  and  have  not  feen 
them  ;  and  to  hear  thofe  things,  which  ye  hear,  and 
have  not  heard  them."  The  fame  views  of  the  gof- 
pel led  the  apoftle  to  exclaim,  "  How  beautiful  are 
the  feet  of  them  that  preach  the  gofpel  of  peace,  and 
bring  glad  tidings  of  good  things." 

If  there  were  no  ground  to  hope  that  our  fins 
would  be  forgiven,  the  horrors  of  our  fituation  would 
exceed  all  defcription.  Every  man  muft  be  fenfible, 
when  he  confults  his  own  confcience,  that  his  works 
have  not  been  perfe<^  before  God*    So  far  from  it, 

we 


SerM.XLL]  0*   TRUTH.  481 

we  are  all  guilty  in  our  own  eyes  ;  and  are  convin- 
ced, that  ruin  muft  be  inevitable,  if  the  exercife  of 
mercy  were  inconfiftent  with  the  charader  of  God, 
and  the  principles  of  his  government.  How  deeply, 
then,  muft  we  feel  ourfelves  interefted  in  the  promi- 
fes  of  pardon,  and  the  ©fFers  of  reconciliation,  which 
abound  in  the  gofpel  !  Is  there  one  prefent,  who 
does  not  efteem  it  a  matter  of  joy,  that  pardon  may 
be  obtained,  and  the  penal  confequences  of  moral 
evil  averted  ?  If  any  thing  can  awaken  a  fentiment 
of  gratitude  in  the  human  mind,  it  muft  be  a  dif- 
covery,  that  God  is  not  implacable  j  and  if  any 
thing  can  fix  a  tranfcendent  value  on  the  gofpel,  it 
is  the  glorious  truth  now  under  confideration. 

As  the  forgivenefs,  fo  a  deliverance  from  the 
reigning  power  of  fin,  is  provided  by  the  gofpel.—" 
The  terms,  therefore,  ufed  in  the  text,  are  very  ap- 
plicable to  it.  The  gofpel  aflures  us,  that  "  fin  fiiall 
not  reign  in  our  mortal  bodies,  that  we  fhould  obey 
it  in  the  lufts  thereof."  It  promlfes  a  "  deliverance 
from  the  bondage  of  corruption,  and  enfures  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  fons  of  God."  Unlefs  it  be 
our  own  fatal  choice  to  continue  under  the  domin- 
ion of  our  lufts  and  pafllons,  the  gofpel  informs  us 
that  we  may  recover  our  freedom  ;  and  may  bring 
all  our  animal  propenfities  into  fubje6tion  to  the  laws 
of  reafon,  and  the  reftraints  of  confcience.  It  fets 
before  us  inftances  of  fuch  a  glorious  conqueft.— 
And  it  gives  us  clearly  to  underftand,  that  meafures 
are  in  operation,  which  will  terminate  in  the  reduc- 
tion of  moral  evil,  and  the  moft  extenfive  empire 
of  piety  and  virtue. 

In  this  view  of  the  chriftlan  difpenfation,  it  is, 

therefore,  the  gofpel  of  our  falvation.     But,  its  juft 

claim  to  this  denomination  will  be  ftill  more  appa- 

N  n  n  rent, 


482  THE   WORD  [SeKM.  XL!. 

rent,  if  we  conflder,  that  it  not  only  reveals  our  de- 
liverance from  the  power  of  fin,  but  furnifhes  the 
means  of  accomplifliing  this  deliverance.  The  gof- 
pel  points  out  the  criminal  practices,  and  all  the 
guilty  excelTes,  which  we  are  to  avoid.  And  it  pre- 
fcribes  rules  of  condud,  whicli,  if  obferved,  will  pro- 
duce a  thorough  reformation,  and  the  higheft  im- 
provement of  our  nature.  To  cure  us  of  impiety, 
in  every  form  and  degree,  it  reveals  to  us  the  char- 
a^er  and  government  of  God  ;  and  teaches  us  how 
to  behave  towards  a  being  poiTelTed  of  his  perfec- 
tions, {landing  in  his  relation,  and  exercifing  his  au- 
thority. To  cleanfe  us  from  all  unrighteoufnefs,  it 
ftates,  with  clearnefs,  the  duties  which  we  owe  to 
each  other  ;  prohibits  every  fpecies  of  wrong  ;  and 
recommends  juftice,  mercy,  and  truth,  by  arguments 
which  carry  conviction.  To  deliver  us  from  private 
vices  and  impurities,  it  fliows  us  what  they  are,  and 
to  what  they  tend  ;  and,  at  the  fame  time,  it  diC- 
plays,  in  the  moll  ftriking  colours,  the  oppofite  vir- 
tues. In  the  gofpel,  there  is  all  the  information  ne- 
ceiTary  for  tJie  detedion  of  our  faults,  the  moft  fecret 
of  them  not  excepted  ;  and  there  is  every  diredion 
and  motive,  requifite  to  the  formation  of  a  good 
character.  We  have  prohibitions  fuited  to  every 
temptation,  and  precepts  accommodated  to  our  cir- 
cumftances,  defires,  and  intentions.  In  a  word,  if 
we  want  religious  inftru6lion,  we  have  it  in  the  gof- 
pel. If  we  want  motives  and  arguments  in  favour 
of  fobriety,  righteoufnefs,  and  piety,  we  have  them 
in  the  chriftian  fyftem.  If  we  want  any  inducement 
to  forfake  our  fms,  and  to  do  that  which  is  lawful 
and  right,  we  have  it  in  the  difcourfes  of  our  blelTed 
Saviour.  As  the  gofpel  declares  the  forgivenefs  o£ 
fms,  fo  it  announces  our  deliverance  from  them. 

And 


Serm.XLI.3  tf  tRyfft.  483 

And  as  it  reveals  to  us  the  conqueft  of  our  rebellious 
paflions,  fo  it  provides  the  means  of  obtaining  this 
glorious  vidory.  How  juftly,  then,  is  it  defined, 
Vy&^  go/pei  of  our  falvation  ! 

To  proceed — A  deliverance  from  ignorance  and 
error,  is  included  in  the  blefling  conferred  by  the 
chriftian  difpenfation.  We  have  minds  to  be  en- 
lightened, as  well  as  hearts  to  be  reformed.  A  flate 
of  religious  blindnefs  is  to  be  deprecated  as  an  un- 
comfortable ftate,  as  a  ftate  of  debafement,  as  a  (late 
moft  unfavourable  to  our  future  deflination.  To  be 
impreffed  with  the  many  evils,  and  the  ignominy  o£ 
it,  we  have  only  to  turn  our  eyes  towards  the  hea- 
then. They  were  ignorant  of  the  true  character  of 
God,  and  of  the  nature  of  his  government ;  they 
were  ignorant  of  his  holy  will,  of  the  neceflity  and 
confequences  of  obedience,  and  of  their  future  exift- 
ence.  Their  conceptions  of  invifible  agents  were 
abfurd  in  the  extreme  j  and  on  all  moral  and  reli- 
gious fubjeds,  the  utmoft  confufion  reigned  in  their 
underftandings. 

Their  doubts  and  fears  were  equal  to  their  errors. 
Unacquainted  with  God,  and  his  direftion  of  al! 
events,  they  were  often  the  flaves  of  their  gloomy 
apprehenfions.  They  faw  things  through  a  medium, 
which  clothed  them  with  terror.  And  to  avert  ex- 
pected evil,  they  frequently  had  recourfe  to  meafures 
as  prepofterous  as  their  fears.  In  the  fame  ftate  of 
uncertainty  and  wretchednefs,  fhould  we  have  been, 
if  the  light  of  the  glorious  gofpel  of  Chrift  had  not 
flione  upon  the  world.  Involved  in  thick  darknefs, 
we  fhould  have  had  no  juft  idea  of  an  overruling 
providence,  no  confidence  in  a  wife  direftion  of  events, 
no  hope  that  all  things  would  work  together  for 
good.    We  fliould  have  paid  our  homage  to  beings, 

who 


484  ''HB  WORD  t^JERM.XLL 

who  had  no  cXiflence,  except  it  were  in  the  calendar 
of  fuperftition.  We  fhould  have  been  ftained  with 
all  the  crimes,  and  degraded  by  all  the  fuperftitious 
practices,  of  which  we  read  with  fo  much  horror  and 
difguft.  That  we  are  not,  therefore,  in  this  ftate  of 
debafement,  muft  be  afcribed  to  the  word  of  truth, 
the  gofpel  of  our  falvation. 

AeAiN— The  bleffing,  which  is  under  confidera- 
tion,  includes  deliverance  from  the  power  of  the 
grave.  "  By  one  man,  fin  came  into  the  world  ; 
and  death  by  fin  j  and  fo  death  has  pafTed  upon  all 
men."  But  the  gofpel  reveals  a  deliverance  from 
death  ;  and  "  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light." 
We  learn  from  the  chriftian  revelation,  that  "  all, 
"who  are  in  their  graves,  fliall  hear  the  voice  of  the 
fon  of  God,  and  come  forth."  The  dodrine  of  a 
general  refurredion  is  afferted  in  the  plaineft  terms. 
Admitting  the  gofpel  to  be  the  word  of  truth,  we  are 
as  certain  of  returning  to  life,  as  of  yielding  to  the 
ftroke  of  death  ;  as  certain  that  we  fliall  rife  from 
the  duft,  as  that  we  fliall  defcend  to  it. 

This  difcovery  being  made  in  the  fuUeft  manner 
by  the  gofpel,  it  is  very  pertinently  fl:yled  the  gofpel  of 
our  falvation.  And  this  dodrine  fliould  lead  us  to  fet 
the  higheft  value  on  the  chriftian  fyftem.  For  how 
interefting  is  the  difcovery,  that  death  is  not  utter 
defl;ru6lion  ?  how  valuable  the  information,  that 
though  we  die,  we  fliall  live  again  ?  how  joyful  the 
aflurance,  that  we  fliall  be  releafed  from  the  prifon 
of  the  grave,  and  fliall  behold  death  fwallowed  up  in 
vidory  !  This  is  fuch  a  great  falvation,  as  muft  ex- 
cite the  warmeft  gratitude  towards  God ;  and  infpire 
us  with  the  higheft  reverence  of  that  gofpel,  of 
which  it  is  an  cffential  doctrine. 

A  DELIVERANCE  from  jgnorancc  and  error,  from 

guilt. 


J5£RM.XLI.]  tiSF  TRUTH.  4S5 

guilt,  from  the  dominion  of  fin,  and  from  death,  is 
not,  however,  a  complete  enumeration  of  all  the 
bleliings  included  in  the  term  falvation.  It  implies 
our  prefervation  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  eternal  glory  and  happinefs  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  The  gofpel  clearly  fets  forth  a 
ftate  of  confummate  and  uncealing  bleffednefs,  which 
is  to  fucceed  the  general  refurreclion.  It  declares, 
that  a  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  will  enfure 
to  us  that  bleffednefs.  And  to  give  us  the  mofl  ex- 
alted idea  of  our  future  condition,  a  variety  of  fig- 
ures are  employed  by  the  facred  writers  ;  and  all  of 
them  calculated  to  make  a  deep  impreffion  on  the 
mind.  Though  we  know  not  what,  in  all  refpecls, 
our  condition  will  be,  yet  we  are  certain,  from  the 
language  of  revelation,  that  our  happinefs  will  be  un- 
interrupted, will  be  continually  increafing,  will  be 
everlafling :  that  it  will  be  compofed  of  every  joy, 
which  piety  and  benevolence,  which  the  friendfhip 
of  God,  the  prefence  of  Jefus  Chrift,  which  the  fo- 
ciety  of  faints  and  angels,  can  furnilh. 

Thus  have  I  attempted  a  defcription  of  the  falva- 
tion revealed  in  the  gofpel.  But  as  it  points  out  the 
blefling,  I  obferve,  in  the  fecond  place,  that  it  fhows 
through  whom,  and  on  what  principle  it  is  beftowed. 
And  on  this  account,  the  chriftian  fyflem  is  the  gof- 
pel of  our  falvation.  As  the  true  fource  of  all  we 
now  enjoy,  or  expecl  hereafter,  we  are  referred  to 
the  grace  pr  benevolence  of  God.  His  love  to  the 
world,  his  forbearance,  his  compafHon,  his  difpofi- 
tion  to  communicate  happinefs,  muft  be  regarded  as 
the  foundation  of  all  our  hopes.  According  to  the 
teftimony  of  divine  revelation,  we  are  faved  by  grace, 
in  every  fenfe,  in  which  the  term  falvation  can  be 
ufed.  Through  the  grace  of  God,  our  fins  are  for- 
given J 


4^6  »rHE  W0R9  tSsRM.  XLL 

given ;  the  penal  confequences  of  them  averted ;  and 
the  power  of  them  broken.  Through  his  grace,  we 
are  delivered  from  the  prifon  of  death,  and  made 
fubjeds  of  a  blefled  immortality.  To  the  joys  of 
heaven,  we  have  no  title,  but  that  which  we  derive 
from  the  pure  benevolence  of  the  Deity.  By  his 
grace,  we  are  both  naturally  and  morally  what  we 
are ;  and  it  is  through  his  grace,  we  have  any  expec- 
tations here  or  hereafter. 

Further — The  gofpel  informs  us,  not  only 
whence  our  falvation  proceeds,  but  through  whom 
it  is  derived  to  mankind.  It  exhibits  Jefus  Chrift 
as  an  eminent  fufFerer  ;  and  it  reprefents  his  death 
as  eflentially  connected  with  our  falvation.  The  lan- 
guage of  the  gofpel  is,  that  he  died  for  our  fins  ; 
that  he  fuffered,  the  juft  for  the  unjuft,  that  he  might 
bring  us  to  God.  Jefus  Chrift  is  ftyled,  a  propitia- 
tion for  our  fms  j  and  we  are  faid  to  obtain  redemp- 
tion through  his  blood.  Upon  this  principle,  the 
apoftle  profefTes  to  glory  in  the  crofs  of  Chrift.— 
Hence,  alfo,  thofe  exulting  ftrains,  "  He  that  fpared 
not  his  fon,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how 
Ihall  he  not  with  him  alfo  freely  give  us  all  things  ? 
Who  is  he  that  condemneth  ?  It  is  Chrift  that  died, 
yea,  rather,  that  is  rifen  again,  who  is  even  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  who  alfo  maketh  interceflion  for 
us."  Thefe  words  afcribe  a  peculiar  efficacy  to  the 
death  of  Chrift  ;  and  fliow  that  it  had  great  influ- 
ence in  fecuring  to  us  the  forgivenefs  of  oiir  fins,  ac- 
ceptance with  God,  and  eternal  falvation. 

Finally — ^The  gofpel  will  appear  to  be  accurately 
defined,  and  juftly  reprefented  in  the  text,  if  we  re- 
flect, that,  as  it  reveals  falvation  to  mankind,  and 
points  out  its  fource  and  moral  ground,  fo  it  is  the 
mean,  by  which  we  are  rendered  capable  of  that 

bleifing. 


Serm.XLL]  of  truth.  4S7 

bleffing.  By  the  gofpel,  accompanied  with  the  divine 
influence,  we  are  made  new  creatures.  It  is  the  in- 
ftrument,  by  which  God  changes  our  hearts,  purifies 
our  affeftions,  regulates  our  defires,  governs  our  ac- 
tions, and  thus  trains  us  up  for  a  ftate  of  immortal 
felicity.  It  is,  therefore,  at  once  the  difcovery  o£ 
falvation,  and  the  mean  of  putting  us  in  pofleffion  of 
it.  No  one  will  deny,  that  we  muft  be  holy  before 
we  can  be  happy  ;  that  evil  habits  muft  be  fubdued, 
and  good  habits  formed  in  us  5  that  we  muft  have 
the  temper  of  heaven,  before  we  can  relifh  the  joys 
of  it  ;  that  in  order  to  fee  God,  we  muft  be  partak- 
ers of  his  nature.  But,  if  we  examine  the  gofpel, 
we  fliall  be  fatisfied,  that,  in  the  hand  of  God,  it  is 
adequate  to  all  thefe  effeds.  It  is  able  to  build  us 
up,  and  to  give  us  an  inheritance  among  thofe  who 
are  fandlified.  It  is  able  to  make  us  holy  in  heart 
and  life  ;  and  to  fill  us  with  all  the  fruits  of  righ- 
teoufnefs,  which  are,  through  Jefus  Chrift,  to  the 
praife  and  glory  of  God.  It  is,  therefore,  the  "  power 
of  God  to  falvation,  to  every  one  that  believeth." 

Having  thus  endeavoured  to  illuftrate  and  con- 
firm the  reprefentation  in  the  text,  I  fhall  conclude 
with  exhibiting  the  duties  implied  in  it.  In  the  firft 
place,  it  becomes  us  to  be  unfeignedly  grateful  to 
God  for  this  unfpeakable  bleffing.  We  have,  indeed, 
innumerable  teftimonies  of  the  divine  goodnefs. — 
Every  day  brings  with  it  fome  proof,  that  God  is 
our  father  and  benefador.  But  the  gofpel  is  a  fa- 
vour of  fo  peculiar  a  nature ;  it  reveals  fuch  biefiings ; 
it  contains  fuch  promifes  ;  it  gives  us  fuch  a  view  of 
the  character  and  defigns  of  God  ;  it  prefents  fuch 
an  example  ;  it  opens  fuch  profpects  ;  it  brings  fuch 
aid  ;  it  ftands  on  fuch  a  foundation  ;  that  we  can- 
not overvalue  it  j  that  we  cannot  exceed  in  our  ex. 

prefiions 


4^8  THE  woRB  [Serm.XLL 

preffions  of  gratitude  to  the  father  of  lights,  from 
whom  came  down  this  good  and  perfed  gift.  In 
our  eftimation,  let  it  always  rank  among  the  greateft 
bleffings.  And  let  us  ever  efteem  it  a  diftinguifhing 
privilege,  that  we  were  born  under  the  light  of  the 
chriftian  difpenfation  ;  and  that  we  ftill  retain  the 
word  of  truth,  the  gofpel  of  our  falvation. 

Secondly- — Whilft  we  profefs  to  value,  we  fhould 
be  careful  to  ftudy  the  chriftian  oracles.  God  has 
given  us  powers,  which  ought  to  be  exercifed,  as 
well  on  religious  fubjeds,  as  thofe  of  an  inferior  na- 
ture. And  what  fubjed  has  a  better  claim  to  our 
attention,  than  the  will  of  God,  and  the  defigns  of 
his  goodnefs  ?  Is  it  not  of  infinite  importance  to 
mankind,  to  afcertain  the  real  charader  of  a  being, 
in  whom  they  live  and  move,  and  who  will  deter- 
mine their  everlafting  coifdition  ?  Is  it  not  of  the 
laft  moment,  to  be  apprized  of  the  terms  of  his 
friendfhip,  and  the  confequences  of  his  difpleafure  ? 
If  falvation  be  offered,  is  it  not  all-important  to  us 
to  know  what  we  fliall  do  to  be  faved  ?  On  thefe 
heads,  the  gofpel  is  the  only  authentic  fource  of  in- 
formation. It  ought,  therefore,  to  be  confulted  with 
impartiality,  and  ftudied  with  diligence.  By  thofe, 
who  make  a  public  profeffion,  it  ought  to  be  read 
daily  ;  and  to  be  read  with  this  view,  that  their 
minds  may  be  ftill  more  enlightened  ;  that  good 
principles  may  be  confirmed  ;  and  that  their  courfe 
of  adion  may  be  ftill  more  conformable  to  the  will 
of  God  ;  that  they  may  be  better  able  to  refifl: 
temptation,  and  to  perfed  holinefs  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord. 

The  chriftian  fyftem  being  the  gofpel  of  our  falva- 
tion, it  follows,  in  the  laft  place,  that  we  fliould  con- 
cur with  the  end  of  that  difpenfation,  and  not  defeat 

it 


Serm.  XLL]  of  truth.  489 

it  by  our  difobedlence.  We  are  not  to  imagine  that 
falvation  will,  if  I  may  life  fo  ftrong  a  term,  be 
forced  upon  us  ;  or  that  eternal  life  and  happinefs 
are  an  unconditional  gift.  Far  from  it  :  if  we  have 
bleffings  to  expe6t,  we  have  duties  to  perform.  To 
enjoy  the  happinefs  propofed  in  the  gofpel,  we  mud 
add  obedience  to  it.  The  lives,  which  we  live  in  the 
flefli,  muft  be  by  faith  in  the  fon  of  God.  We  muft 
fubmit  to  the  prohibitions  of  the  gofpel  ;  muft  fol- 
low its  diredlions  ;  muft  liften  to  its  counfels  ;  muft 
be  awed  by  its  threatenings  ;  muft  be  animated  by 
its  promifes  ;  muft,  in  a  word,  be  pradical  Chrif- 
tians,  in  order  to  obtain  the  Chriftian's  reward.  In 
this  world,  we  muft  be  faved  from  every  falfe  and 
evil  way,  from  every  vile  affedion,  and  criminal 
habit,  in  order  to  obtain  falvation  with  joy  in  the 
World  to  come. 

Among  the  means,  provided  by  infinite  wifdom, 
for  our  religious  improvement,  is  the  ordinance  of 
the  Lord's-fupper.  By  this  inftitution,  we  commem- 
orate the  death  of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  give  ourfelves  up 
to  him,  and  to  each  other.  We,  moreover,  declare 
to  the  world,  that  we  are  not  afhamed  of  the  gofpel ; 
but  glory  in  it,  as  a  moft  Vv^ife  and  gracious  expedi- 
ent to  bring  us  to  God,  and  to  fit  us  for  heaven. — 
May  our  celebration  of  it,  this  day,  be  attended  with 
a  blefling.  And  may  we  at  length  be  made  heirs  of 
falvation,  through  Jefus  Chrift,  to  whom  be  everlaft- 
ing  praifes. 

— — «a^^:^ — 


Ooo 


49<^  lAriTATioN  OF  [Serm.  XLIL 

pennon  xlii. 

On  the  Imitation  of  the  Divine  Holinefs. 
I  Peter,  i.   15,  16. 

"  BUT  AS  HE,  WHICH  HATH  CALLED  YOU,  IS  HOLY, 
SO  BE  YE  HOLY  IN  ALL  MANNER  OF  CONVERSA- 
TION ;  BECAUSE  IT  IS  WRITTEN,  BE  YE  HOLY, 
FOR    I    AM    HOLY.'* 

IT  is  a  doctrine  of  natural  religion,  that  God  Is 
perfedlly  good  j  and  it  is  a  precept  of  divine  rev- 
elation, that  ive  fliould  be  "  followers  of  him,  as  dear 
children."  The  gods,  whom  the  heathen  worfhip- 
ped,  were  grofsly  immoral.  Pride,  jealoufy,  revenge, 
and  luft,  were  openly  imputed  to  them.  And  many 
of  their  actions  were  fuch  as  would  bring  a  lafting 
fcandal  on  any  human  character.  To  the  poets  we 
are  indebted  for  this  information.  They  freely  told, 
and  the  people  fincerely  believed,  the  immoralities  of 
their  gods.  And  with  fuch  examples  before  them, 
we  cannot  w^onder  at  the  prevailing  wickednefs, 
which  difgraced  the  heathen  world. 

But  far  other  is  the  object  propofed  to  our  imi- 
tation. The  being,  whom  we  invoke  by  the  name 
of  God,  and  reverence  as  our  maker,  may  be  conlid- 
ered  as  an  affemblage  of  all  perfeftion.  He  is  in- 
fmitely  holy,  juft,  and  good.  He  is  of  purer  eyes 
than  to  behold  iniquity  ;  and  he  cannot  look  on  fin 
but  with  abhorrence.  Hence  it  is,  with  great  pro- 
priety, that  we  are  exhorted  to  be  followers  of  him. 

.For 


Serm.  XLIL]  divine  holiness.  491 

For  nothing  can  lead  to  higher  degrees  of  virtue  and 
purity,  than  an  habitual  imitation  of  him,  in  whom 
all  natural  and  moral  perfections  are  united. 

These  remarks  may  ferve  as  a  proper  introduc- 
tion to  the  words  of  the  text.  St.  Peter  knew  the 
importance  of  a  holy  and  exemplary  life.  He  knew, 
that,  without  purity  on  the  part  of  its  profeffors, 
Chriftianity  muft  fuffer.  And  he  was  as  fenfible, 
that,  in  order  to  partake  of  the  glory  and  blelTednefs 
of  God,  men  muft  be  partakers  of  his  divine  nature. 
He,  therefore,  reminds  his  fellow-chriftians  of  their 
religious  obligations.  And,  from  the  holinefs  of  God, 
he  takes  occalion  to  recommend  holinefs  in  all  man- 
ner of  converfation.  "  As  obedient  children,"  fays 
he,  '*  not  fafhioning  yourfelves  according  to  the  for- 
mer lufts  in  your  ignorance.  But  as  he^  which  hath 
called  you,  is  holy,  fo  be  ye  holy  in  all  manner  of  connierfa" 
tlon  ;  for  it  is  written,  be  ye  holy,  for  1  a?n  holy  J* 

My  defign,  in  this  difcourfe,  is,  in  the  firft  place, 
to  confider  the  abfolute  purity  of  God.  And,  fec- 
endly,  to  propofe  it  as  an  objed  of  human  imitation. 
This  will  take  up  the  apoftle's  argument  j  and  lead 
to  fome  ufeful  refledions. 

First — We  are  reminded  of  the  abfolute  holinefs 
of  that  God,  by  whom  we  have  been  refcued  from 
a  ftate  of  darknefs  5  and  called  to  the  knowledge 
and  practice  of  true  religion.  The  fupreme  being  is 
infinitely  removed  from  every  kind  and  degree  of 
moral  evil  whatever.  And  this  is  what  we  are  to 
underftand  by  holinefs,  when  the  word  is  ufed  with 
reference  to  God.  There  is,  indeed,  an  inferior  fenfe, 
which  is  fometimes  affixed  to  this  word.  A  mere 
feparation  from  common  ufe,  is  its  undoubted  figni- 
fication  in  fome  parts  of  the  fcripture.  Accordingly, 
we  read  of  the  holy  mountain,  the  holy  temple,  the 

holy 


49*  XmitTation  Of  [Serm.  XLII. 

holy  veffels,  and  a  holy  priefthood.  But,  when  God 
is  ftyled  holy,  the  meaning  of  the  expreffion  is,  that 
he  is  abfolutely  free  from  all  moral  defilement :  that, 
in  his  nature,  there  is  nothing,  which  bears  the  leaft 
refemblance  to  injuftice,  cruelty,  envy,  hatred,  re- 
venge, impatience,  malice,  unfaithfulnefs,  or  falfe* 
hood  :  fo  far  from  it,  that  he  is  eflentially,  and  eter- 
iially  poffeffed  of  the  oppofite  qualities  ;  and  that 
they  conftitute  the  glory  and  excellency  of  his  char« 
after.  Thus  it  appears,  that  holinefs  is  a  general 
term  ;  and  that,  in  this  term,  is  comprehended  ev- 
ery thing  morally  good.  When,  therefore,  we  fpeak 
of  the  fupreme  being  in  this  language,  we  pronounce 
him  abfolutely  without  fin,  but  poffeffed  of  every 
perfedion. 

And  this  is  the  true  idea  of  God.  This  concep- 
tion ought  we  to  form,  if  we  give  credit  to  the  holy 
fcriptures.  They  always  reprefent  him  as  the  high 
and  holy  one  ;  and  celebrate  his  tranfcendent  purity 
in  the  moft  exalted  ftrains.  The  angels  of  heaven 
are  introduced,  not  only  as  fpectators  of  the  di- 
vine hoHnefs,  but  as  doing  homage  to  it  in  this  mag-» 
nificent  language  :  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of 
hofts,  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory."  Such  is 
the  charafter  of  God,  in  the  view  of  his  heavenly  atr 
tendants.  And  the  fame  honourable  conceptions  of 
him  have  been  entertained  by  the  enlightened  part 
of  mankind.  Mofes  fays,  "  the  Lord  is  a  God  of 
truth,  and  without  iniquity  ;  juft  and  right  is  he.'* 
And  it  is  the  language  of  Elihu,  "  far  be  it  from 
Ood,  that  he  fliould  do  wickednefs ;  and  from  the 
Almighty,  that  he  fliould  commit  iniquity.  For  the 
work  of  a  man  fhall  he  render  to  him ;  and  caufe 
every  man  to  find  according  to  his  ways.  Yea,  fure- 
ly,  Qod  will  not  do  wickedly,  neither  will  the  Al- 
mighty 


Serm.  XLII.]  divine  holiness.  493 

mighty  pervert  judgment."  The  pfalmift,  likewifc, 
charaderizes  the  blefTed  God  in  terms  as  juft  and  ex- 
alted. "  Thou  art  not  a  God,  that  hath  pleafure  in 
wickednefs  :  neither  fliall  evil  dwell  with  thee.  The 
foolilh  fliall  not  ftand  in  thy  fight ;  thou  hateft  all 
the  workers  of  iniquity.''  But,  "  the  righteous 
Lord  loveth  righteoufiiefs,  and  his  countenance  be- 
holdeth  the  upright."  I  might  produce  many  other 
paffages  of  fcripture,  in  which  the  moft  abfolute  mor- 
al reditude  is  afcribed  to  God.  But  it  is  evident  to 
all,  who  are  acquainted  with  the  facred  pages,  that 
holinefs  in  God,  as  oppofed  to  every  moral  imperfec- 
tion, is  an  unqueftionable  doctrine  of  revelation.  To 
this  great  and  folemn  truth,  the  ears  of  the  Ifraelites 
were  always  familiarized.  And  our  Saviour,  and  the 
apoftles,  never  failed  to  teach  it  to  their  followers. 

But  we  are  not  wholly  indebted  to  the  fcriptures 
for  this  information.  That  the  governor  of  the 
world  is  a  being  of  infinite  purity,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  conflitution  of  human  nature.  We  are  all 
confcious  of  a  principle  of  moral  difcernment  ;  and, 
as  we  diHinguifli  between  good  and  evil,  that  we 
unanimoufly  approve  the  one,  and  condemn  the 
other.  In  fhort,  imperfect  as  our  nature  is,  yet  there 
is  a  degree  of  purity  in  that  part  of  the  human  fpe^ 
cies,  who  have  felt  the  power  of  the  gofpel,  and  been 
created  anew  by  Jefus  Chrift  unto  good  works.  But, 
It  is  an  eftablifhed  maxim,  that "  whatever  excellency 
"  there  is  in  any  effed,  the  fame  muft  be  ftill  more 
*'  eminently  in  its  caufe."  To  this  truth,  the  mind 
readily  and  firmly  afTents.  Since,  then,  God  made 
us  ;  fince  he  implanted  in  us  a  moral  faculty  ;  and 
fince,  under  his  guidance  and  direction,  we  do  really 
attain  to  a  degree  of  hohnefs,  we  may  conclude,  that 
lie  is  holy  in  the  moil  eminent  fenfe  of  the  word. 

The 


494  IMITATION  OP  [Serm.  XLIL 

The  reproof  uttered  by  the  pfalmift,  will  illuftrate 
this  argument.  "  Underftand,  ye  brutifli  among  the 
people,  and,  ye  fools,  when  will  ye  be  wife  ?  He  that 
planted  the  ear,  fliall  he  not  hear  ?  He  that  formed 
the  eye,  fhall  he  not  fee  ?  He  that  teacheth  man 
knowledge,  fhall  he  not  know"  ?  From  the  things, 
which  are  made,  we  juflly  infer  the  eternal  power 
and  Godhead.  From  the  marks  of  wifdom,  which 
univerfally  appear,  we  infer  that  God  is  wife.  From 
the  bounties  hourly  conferred  on  us,  we  conclude 
that  God  is  good.  And  from  our  capacity  of  moral 
rectitude,  and  the  degree  of  holinefs,  to  which  we 
really  attain,  we  juftly  argue,  that  the  being,  from 
whom  we  derived  our  powers,  and  on  whom  we  de- 
pend for  their  exercife,  muft  be  abfolutely  pure.— 
Otherwife,  we  fall  into  the  grofs  abfurdity  of  admit- 
ting an  effect  without  an  adequate  caufe. 

Finally — We  argue  that  God  is  holy  from  the 
moral  government,  which  he  hath  eftablifhed  over 
the  world.  There  is  an  evident  connexion  between 
virtue  and  happinefs,  and  between  vice  and  mifery. 
The  greateft  good,  which  can  happen  to  mankind, 
and  the  greateft  evils,  which  can  overtake  them,  may 
be  traced  up  to  their  moral  conduct.  By  a  courfe 
of  obedience,  they  have  effentially  improved  their 
prefent  condition.  And  they  have  rendered  them- 
felves  unfpeakably  wretched  by  their  depravity  and 
guilt.  It  is  true,  fome  bad  men  appear  to  be  happy  ; 
and  fome  good  ones  appear  to  be  miferable.  But,  I 
am  now  fpeaking  of  the  general  tendency  of  virtue 
and  vice.  And  if  the  former,  according  to  the  ef- 
tablifhed courfe  of  things,  is  productive  of  happinefs, 
and  the  latter  of  mifery,  we  have  fure  indications  of 
the  charader  of  God.  It  is  plain,  that  a  righteous 
adminiltration  is  begun.     It  is  evident,  that  the  ma-^ 

ker 


Serm.  XLII.]  divine  holiness.  495 

ker  and  governor  of  the  world  is  of  purer  eyes 
than  to  behold  iniquity,  even  with  indifference, 
much  lefs  with  approbation.  In  fhort,  it  is  certain, 
that  God  is  fo  eminently  and  tranfcendently  pure, 
that  Eliphaz  might  well  fay,  "  the  heavens  are  not 
clean  in  his  fight  ;  and  he  charged  his  angels  with 
folly."  The  words,  it  is  acknowledged,  are  highly 
figurative  ;  but  they  excite  no  more  than  a  juft  idea 
of  the  divine  purity. 

Having  thus  coniidered  the  holinefs  of  God,  I 
now  proceed,  fecondly,  to  propofe  it  as  an  object  of 
human  imitation.  "  Be  ye  holy,**  faith  the  fupreme 
being,  "/or  I  am  holy.""  From  reafon  and  fcripture 
it  is  clear,  that  we  ought  to  aim  at  a  refemblance  of 
God,  in  all  the  imitable  perfedions  of  his  nature. 
Thus,  becaufe  he  is  juft,  we  fiiould  endeavour  to  con- 
form all  our  adions  to  the  eternal  and  unalterable 
laws  of  righteoufnefs.  Becaufe  he  is  merciful,  we 
ihould  exercife  compailion.  Becaufe  he  is  good,  we 
fhould  cultivate  a  principle  of  univerfal  benevolence. 
And  inafmuch  as  he  is  holy,  we  ihould  endeavour  to 
be  "  holy  in  all  manner  of  converfation."  In  his 
moral  perfeftions  only,  can  we  ever  rife  to  a  refem- 
blance of  the  Deity.  In  the  exercife  of  his  fupreme 
power,  in  the  extent  of  his  unerring  knowledge, 
and  in  the  depth  of  his  unfathomable  wifdom,  God 
is  not  propofed  to  any  created  being  as  an  object  of 
imitation.  But  goodnefs,  juftice,  truth,  mercy,  and 
holinefs  are  moral  qualities,  of  which  we  can  form 
fome  idea.  And,  in  thefe  refpedls,  we  iliould  ar- 
dently delire  to  be  like  the  author  of  our  being. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that,  even  in  thefe  moral 
excellencies,  we  mull  be  followers  of  God  at  an  un- 
meafurable  diftance.  Though  created  after  him  in 
righteoufnefs  and  true  holinefs,  yet  we  muft  fall  in- 
finitely 


49^  JMiTATioN  OF  [Shrm.  XLIL 

finitely  fhort  of  him  in  purity.  He  only  is  abfo- 
lutely  without  fpot  or  blemilli.  The  moft  exalted 
fpirit  cannot,  without  blafphemy,  compare  the  recti- 
tude of  his  nature  with  that  of  the  Deity.  And, 
agalnfl  the  beft  Chriftian  on  earth,  it  may  be  alleged, 
that  in  many  things  he  oftends,  and  in  all  falls  Ihort 
of  his  duty.  It  is  true,  fome  enthufiafts  have  pre- 
tended to  rival  the  Almighty  in  this  comprehenlive 
attribute.  They  have  complimented  themfelves,  not 
merely  with  a  refemblance,  but  an  equality  with 
God,  in  point  of  holinefs.  Such  felf-deceivers  there 
were  in  the  days  of  St.  John ;  and  they  are  pointedly 
teproved  in  the  following  words  :  "  If  we  fay,  we 
have  no  fin,  we  deceive  ourfelves,  and  the  truth  is 
not  in  us.'*  But  we  need  not  labour  to  expofe  this 
error.  Such  vanity  is  not  the  fault  of  the  prefent 
age.  We  are  all  fufficiently  ready  to  own  the  diC- 
tance  between  God  and  ourfelves.  And  it  is  our 
prevailing  fault,  that  we  do  not  aim  at  a  refemblance 
of  him,  fo  far  as  he  is  a  pattern  to  his  creatures. 

The  duty,  prefcribed  iii  the  text,  is  to  be  "  holy 
in  all  manner  of  converfation."  God  is  abfolutely 
pure.  And  inafmuch  as  we  bear  his  image,  it  fhould 
be  our  ambition  to  keep  ourfelves  unfpotted  of  the 
world.  We  fliould,  in  the  firft  place,  aim  at  purity 
of  heart.  "  Keep  thy  heart,"  fays  the  wife  man, 
*'  with  all  diligence  ;  for  out  of  it  are  the  iffues  of 
life."  And  our  Saviour  fays,  "  BlefTed  are  the  pure 
in  heart  ;  for  they  Ihall  fee  God."  It  fhould  be  our 
great  care  to  fubdue  all  irregular  defires  and  affec- 
tions ;  and  to  lay  an  habitual  reftraint  on  all  thofe 
pafGons,  which  war  againft  the  foul.  We  fhould 
watch,  "  kft  any  root  of  bitternefs  fhould  fpring  up, 
and  trouble  us."  We  fhould  keep  out  all  blafphe- 
xnous,  envious,  malicious,  uncharitable,  unchafle,  re- 
vengeful. 


Serm.  XLII.]  divine  holiness.  497 

vengeful,  and,  in  a  word,  all  impure  thoughts,  of 
every  kind  and  defcription  whatever.  Vain  is  it  to 
expe<5t,  that  we  can  become  partakers  of  the  divine 
holinefs,  unlefs  we  begin  with  the  heart.  "  For  out 
of  the  heart  proceed  evil  thoughts,  murders,  blaf- 
phemies,  adulteries,  fornications,  thefts,  falfe  wit- 
neffes.  And  thefe  are  things,  which  defile  a  man." 
For  thefe  reafons,  we  Ihould  take  particular  care, 
that  no  impure  ideas  fhould  become  familiar  to  the 
mind.  We  fhould  fupprefs  the  firft  rifing  of  every 
unlawful  palfion.  Should  envy  or  malice  knock  at 
the  door  of  our  hearts,  we  fhould  refufe  them  ad- 
mittance. And  we  Ihould  endeavour  to  keep  our 
minds  always  in  fuch  a  ftate,  that .  we  fhould  not 
blulh  to  meet  the  eye  of  the  world,  could  it  penetrate 
our  inmoft  recefTes.  So  cautioufly  fhall  we  guard 
our  hearts,  *  if  we  wifli  to  be  holy  in  that  fenfe, 
in  which  this  perfection  is  afcribed  to  our  maker. 

Secondly — We  are  admonifhed  to  be  circumfpect 
in  our  converfation.  All  clamour  and  evil  fpeaking  j 
all  profanenefs,  obfcenity,  and  falfehood,  are  inconfift- 

ent 

*  "  So  cautioufly  fiiall  we  guard  our  hearts."  Having  re- 
peated thefe  words,  the  preacher  loft  his  utterance,  and  fell  back- 
wards in  the  pulpit.  His  voice  faultered  in  the  fentence  preced- 
ing, but  here  failed  entirely.  The  neareft  hearers  fprang  to  his 
iaffiftance.  Reviving  a  little,  he  feemed  defirous  of  addreffing 
the  congregation,  and  was  raifed  on  his  feet  j  but  he  could  only- 
fay,  "  my  friends,"  when  he  funk  again.  Being  conveyed  to  his 
houfe,  he  foon  became  infenfible,  and  expired  before  another  day. 
Thus  died,  in  the  meridian  of  years  and  ufefulnefs,  this  amiable 
and  excellent  man  ;  the  ornament  of  his  profefllon  and  of  human 
nature.  But  however  untimely  was  his  death,  and  awful  and 
diftrefling  the  manner  of  it,  yet,  had  he  entertained  a  wilh  on  the 
fubjeft.  It  would  probably  have  been,  to  be  faved  the  anguilh  of 
a  lingering  difeafe,  and  to  receive  his  fummons,  in  the  immediate 
fervice  of  his  Mailer,  and  prefence  of  his  people. 
Ppp 


49^  IMITATION    OF  [SeRM.  XLIL 

ent  with  chriftian  purity.  If  ambitious  to  be  like 
God  in  the  moral  reditude  of  his  nature,  we  Ihall 
put  away  all  lying,  and  fpeak  truth  every  man  with 
his  neighbour.  We  fhall  fpeak  evil  of  no  one.  We 
iliall  facredly  avoid  every  approach  towards  profane- 
neis.  Our  lips  will  never  be  difgraced  with  the  ob- 
fcene  effuiions  of  a  vain  and  fenfual  mind.  Ail 
foolifti  talking  and  jefting  will  be  reprobated  by  us, 
•And  our  whole  converfation  will  comport  with  the 
nature  of  that  holy  vocation  wherewith  we  are  called. 

Finally — As  God  is  holy,  fo  ought  we  to  make 
at  our  ftudy,  to  be  pure  and  undefiled  in  our  out- 
ward behaviour.  Whilft  thofe,  who  know  not  God, 
indulge  themfelves  in  rioting  and  drunkennefs,  diffi- 
pation  and  wantonnefs,  we,  who  profefs  to  have  fome 
fenfe  of  right  and  wrong,  Ihould  fet  a  better  exam- 
ple. In  imitation  of  the  moft  high,  we  fhould  do 
juftice  to  all  men.  We  fhould  be  moderate  in  all 
our  gratifications.  Senfual  excelTes  we  fhould  avoid 
as  both  our  ruin  and  difgrace.  And,  actuated  by  a 
fixed  averfion  to  wickednefs  in  general,  we  fhould 
endeavour  to  keep  at  the  utmoft  poflible  diftance 
from  every  falfe  and  evil  way.  In  fhort,  as  *'  the 
grace  of  God,  which  bringeth  lalvation,  teacheth,  we 
Ihould  deny  ungodlinefs,  and  every  worldly  lull,  and 
live  foberly,  righteoufly,  and  pioufly  in  the  world." 
This  is  the  fum  of  moral  and  chriftian  duty.  And 
conforming  our  actions  to  this  rule,  we  fhall  difplay 
the  image  of  God  on  our  fouls.  We  fliall  be  follow- 
ers of  him,  as  dear  children.  And  being  like  him  in 
righteoufnefs,  and  true  holinefs,  we  fhall  be  prepared 
for  the  everlafting  joys  of  his  prefence  and  kingdom, 

I  SHALL  not  pretend  to  point  out  the  vices,  which 
we  muft  avoid,  and  the  virtues,  which  we  muft  prac- 
tife,  in  order  to  attain  to  this  refemblance.     Holinefs 

Is 


Serm.  XLII.]  bivine  holiness.  499 

is  a  moft  comprehenlive  term.  It  is  not  a  fingle 
moral  quality,  but  an  affemblage  of  moral  excellen- 
cies. It  is  fufficient,  therefore,  to  fay,  that  every 
politive  offence,  every  omiflion  of  duty,  every  tranf- 
greffion,  whether  of  thought,  fpeech,  or  adion,  is  in- 
confiftent  with  the  purity  of  the  gofpel.  And,  on 
the  other  hand,  every  aft  of  obedience  is  included  in 
that  "  holinefs,  without  which  no  man  can  fee  the 
Lord."  Wherefore,  to  ufe  the  words  of  the  apoflle, 
'*  whatfoever  things  are  true,  whatfoever  things  are 
honeft,  whatfoever  things  are  juft,  whatfoever  things 
are  pure,  whatfoever  things  are  lovely,  whatfoever 
things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  if 
there  be  any  praife,  we  muft  think  on  thefe  things/* 
Thefe  things  are  comprehended  in  the  admonition  of 
the  apoftle  ;  and  if  they  be  in  us,  and  abound,  as 
*'  he,  who  hath  called  us,  is  holy,  fo  Ihall  we  be  holy 
in  all  manner  of  converfation." 

It  remains  to  make  fome  reflexions  on  the  fub- 
jed.  And,  lirft,  if  the  fupreme  being  be  fo  far  re- 
moved from  all  moral  evil  whatever,  there  is  a  juft 
foundation  for  that  reverence,  love,  and  homage, 
which  he  demands  of  his  creatures.  We  are  fo  con-, 
ftituted,  that  moral  excellencies,  wherever  they  ap- 
pear, command  our  admiration.  We  reverence  the 
wife,  and  love  the  good  amongft  our  own  fpecies. 
With  what  profound  refped,  and  with  what  filial  af- 
fection, muft  we  then  contemplate  the  character  of 
God  ?  How  reafonable  the  command  to  "  love  him 
with  all  our  heart,  with  all  our  foul,  with  all  our 
mind,  and  with  all  our  ftrength"  !  How  juft  the 
requifition,  that  v/e  ftiould  worfhip  him  in  public 
and  private  ?  fhould  rejoice  in  his  government,  and 
fubmit  to  his  authority  ?  Well  may  the  heavenly 
hoft  employ  their  powers  in  celebrating  the  divine 

holinefs* 


500  IMITATION  OF  [SfiRM.  XLIL 

holinefs.  It  is  a  proper  theme  for  angelick  praifes  ; 
and  with  great  propriety  might  all  the  intelligent 
creation  join  in  their  fong  :  "  Great  and  marvellous 
are  thy  works.  Lord  God  Almighty  5  juft  and  true 
are  thy  ways,  thou  king  of  faints  !  who  fliall  not 
fear  thee,  O  Lord,  and  glorify  thy  name  ;  for  thou 
only  art  holy  !" 

Secondly — ^From  the  fubjed  of  this  difcourfe, 
■we  are  led  to  refled  on  the  vanity  of  all  attempts  to 
pleafe  God,  without  an  habitual  endeavour  to  imi- 
tate his  perfedions.  What  avail  the  prayers,  which 
we  offer,  or  the  acknowledgments,  which  we  make  ? 
What  avail  the  articles,  which  we  believe,  or  the 
forms  and  ceremonies,  which  we  obferve  ?  Thefe 
things  can  profit  us  nothing,  unlefs  we  make  it  our 
Hudy  to  be  like  God  in  holinefs,  juftice,  goodnefs, 
and  truth.  To  render  us  partakers  of  his  nature  is 
the  great  end  of  all  religion.  All  the  precepts,  all 
the  prohibitions,  all  the  motives,  fet  before  us  in  the 
gofpel,  tend  to  this  point.  So  far,  therefore,  as  we 
refemble  the  beft  of  beings  in  his  moral  excellencies, 
we  may  lay  claim  to  the  character  of  Chriftians, 
And  we  may  rely,  that  we  fatally  deceive  ourfelves, 
when  we  build  on  any  other  foundation. 

The  neceflity  of  ftudying  the  charader  of  God, 
an  order  to  know  what  we  are  to  imitate,  is  a  third 
obfervation  ariling  from  this  fubjed.  In  vain  are 
we  exhorted  to  be  followers  of  God,  unlefs  we  have 
fome  rational  conceptions  of  our  leader.  But,  by  a 
proper  ufe  of  our  underftanding,  fuch  conceptions 
may  be  formed.  The  volumes  of  nature,  providence, 
and  revelation  are  before  us.  And  in  thofe  volumes 
we  may  find  all  neceflary  information.  If  we  perufe 
them  with  attention,  we  fhall  learn  that  God  is  the 
pareiit  of  his  creatures,  that  he  is  infinitely  holy, 

righteous. 


Serm.  XLIL]  divine  holiness.  501 

righteous,  benevolent,  impartial,  merciful,  and  faiths 
ful.  And  having  made  this  difcovery,  we  fhall  per- 
ceive what  thofe  excellencies  are,  which  we  fliould 
tranfcribe  into  ourfelves.  For  want  of  fuch  inform- 
ation, many  have  thought  themfelves  followers  of 
God,  whilft  they  were  difplaying  the  temper  of  fatan, 
and  building  up  his  kingdom  in  the  world. 

Finally — The  fubject  of  this  difcourfe  confirms 
the  obfervation  of  the  apoftle,  that  "  without  holinefs 
no  man  can  fee  the  Lord.'*  The  blefled  God  is  in- 
finitely happy,  becaufe  he  is  infinitely  removed  from 
all  evil.  And  our  happinefs,  beyond  the  grave,  will 
be  in  exad:  proportion  to  our  moral  purity.  If  the 
gofpel  of  Jefus  Chrift  has  purified  our  fouls,  and  wc 
have  been  recovered  to  the  moral  image  of  God,  wc 
fhall  affuredly  be  received  into  heaven,  and  partake 
of  its  exquifite  delights.  For  being  qualified  for  life 
and  happinefs,  we  Ihall  be  put  into  their  immediate 
poffeflion.  But,  if  we  are  not  holy  in  all  manner  of 
converfation,  we  mull  take  the  confequences  of  our 
depravity.  Being  unfit  for  the  prefence  of  God,  we 
fhall  be  fpurned  from  it.  And  having  laid  the 
foundation  of  fliame  and  mifery  in  this  world,  they 
will  aifuredly  overtake  us  in  that  which  is  to  come. 
Having,  therefore,  dearly  beloved,  this  affurance,  let 
us  cleanfe  ourfelves  from  all  filthinefs  of  flefh  and 
fpirit,  and  perfeA  hoHnefs  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 


FINIS. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

SERMON  XVIII.    On  the  obfervation  of  the 

Lord's-day,  205 

Revelation  i.  10. 
"  I  was  in  the  fpirit  on  the  Lord's-day." 

SERMON  XIX.  Duty  of  the  afflided  to  pray,  2 1 6 

James  v.  13, 
"  Is  any  among  you  afflidted  ?  let  him  pray," 

SERMON   XX.     On  candour,  228 

Romans  xiv.  4.      -^ 
**  Who  art  thou  that  judgeft  another  man's  fervant  ?   to  his  own 
mafter  he  flandetli  or  falieth." 

SERMON   XXI.    On  the  companion  of  Chrift,  239 

John  xi.  35.  _. 
<*  Jefus  wept." 

SERMON   XXII.     On  the  patience  of  Chrift,  250 

Hebrews  xii.  3. 

**  For  confider  him,  who  endured  fuch  contradidion   of  fmners- 

againft  himfelf,  left  ye  be  wearied  and  faint  in  your  minds." 

SERMON   XXIII.     On   the  refurredion  of 

the  dead,^  262 

Acts  xxvi.  8. 
•*  Why  fiiould  It  be  thought  a  thing  incredible  with  you,  that 
God  fhould  raife  the  dead  ?" 

SERMON   XXIV.     On  fincerity,  274 

Philippians  I.  10.        .^ 
•'  That  ye  may  be  fmcere,  and  without  offence,  till  the  day  of 
Chrift." 

SERMON   XXV.     On  contentment,  285 

Philippians  iv.  n.       '' 
*'  I  have  learned,  in  whatfoever  ftale   I  am,  therewith  to   be 

content." 

SERMON   XXVI.    On  governing  the  temper,  297 

Proverbs  xxv.  a8. 

•**  He  that  hath  no  rule  over  his  own  fpirit,  is  like  a  city  that  is 

broken  down,  and  without  walls." 

SERMON   XXVII.     On  the  immoderate  love 

of  pleafure,  309 

2  Timothy,  in.  4. 
^'  Lovers  of  pleafure,  more  than  lovers  of  God." 

SERMON 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

SERMON  XXVIII.     On  friendfliip,  321 

John  xxi.  30. 
«  Then   Peter,   turning  about,   feeth   the   difciple   whom  Jefus 

loved.'* 

SERMON   XXIX.     On  the  love  of  God,  and 

the  love  of  man,  335 

I  Timothy,  i.  5.        -- 
**  Now  the  end  of  the  commandment  is  charity,  out  of  a  pure 
heart,  and  of  a  good  confcience,  and  of  faith  unfeigned." 

SERMON  XXX.     On  the  abufe  of  parental 

authority,  347 

Genesis  xxvii.  13. 
"  And  his  mother  faid  unto  him,  upon  me  be  thy  curfe,  my  fon ; 
only  obey  my  voice." 

SERMON   XXXI.     Origin  of  evil,  358 

ECCtESIASTES    VII.    39. 

"  Lo,  this  only  have  I  found,  that  God  hath  made  man  upright ; 
but  they  have  fought  out  many  inventions." 

SERMON   XXXII.     Nature  of  bad  habits,       370 

a  Timothy,  hi.  13. 
"  But  evil  men — fhall  wax  worfe  and  worfe." 

SERMON   XXXIII.     On  regeneration,  382 

I  Peter,  i.  33. 

«  Being  born  again,  not  of  corruptible  feed,  but  of  incorruptible, 

by  the  word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abideth  forever." 

SERMON  XXXIV.     On  the  defire  of  life,      394 

a  Kings,  xx.  3. 
— — •"  And  Hezekiah  wept  fore." 

SERMON   XXXV.     On  life  and  death,  411 

ECCLESIASTES    VII.    I. 

— — "  And  the  day  of  death,  than  the  day  of  one's  birtli." 

SERMON  XXXVI.     The  approach  of  a  new 

year,  423 

PsALM    XC.   9. 

"  We  fpend  our  years  as  a  tale  tliat  is  told." 

SERMON 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

SERMON  XXXVII.    The  hiftory  of  the 

Lord's-fupper,  434 

I  Corinthians,  x.  16. 
*«  The  cup  of  bleffing,  which  we  blefs,  is  it  not  the  communion 
of  the  blood  of  Chrift  ?    The  bread,  which  we  break,  is  it  not 
the  communion  of  the  body  of  Chrift  V* 

SERMON  XXXVIII.  Thederignofthefiipper,444 

I  Corinthians,  x.  17. 
— — "  We  are  all  partakers  of  that  one  bread.'* 

SERMON  XXXIX.     Family  worfhip^  456 

Psalm  xcii.  2. 

*•  To  (hew  forth  thy  loving-kindnefs  every  morning  j   and  thy 

faithfulnefs,  every  night." 

SERMON   XL.     Funeral  occafion,  467 

ECCLESIASTES    XII.   5. 

"  Man  goeth  to  his  long  home  ;    and  the  mourners  go  about  the 

ftreets." 

SERMON   XLI.     The  word  of  truths  47$ 

Ephesians  I.  13. 
— — "  The  word  of  truth,  the  gofpel  of  your  falvatlon.'* 

SERMON   XLIL     On  the  imitation  of  the 

divine  holinefs,  490 

I  Peter,  i.  15,  16. 
**  But  as  he,  which  hath  called  you,   is  holy,  fo  be  ye  holy  in  all 
manner  of  converfation  j   becaufe  it  is  written,  be  ye  holy,  for 
1  am  holy." 


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